


Osborn With A Curse

by NoveltyToy



Series: A Series of Seriously Bad Decisions [1]
Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Spectacular Spider-Man (Cartoon), Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Animal Death, Bad Decisions, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Gaslighting, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mommy Issues, Norman isn't the bad guy (yet), POV Multiple, Parent-Child Relationship, Supervillain Origin Story, Teacher-Student Relationship, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 26
Words: 37,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoveltyToy/pseuds/NoveltyToy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vignettes from Harry's childhood and previews of Norman's life (as a child; during college; his relationship with Professor Stromm; meeting, dating and marrying Emily Lyman; founding OsCorp; running experiments with what would come to be known as The Goblin Formula; Emily's subsequent death; and raising his son, his Little Fairy Princess).</p><p>This is sort of a prequel to my other stories in the series. It will definitely be subject to change, because I may want to go back through for some major editing as I figure out how I want the whole series to play out. For now it'll just be drafts of the scenes that build their backstory, but I do plan on eventually connecting each piece together into a decent narrative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summary of Events and Trigger Warnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This "Chapter" is here to be used as a Quick Reference for myself and any readers that may be sensitive to trigger related content or want to have access to more thorough chapter summaries.
> 
> **If you don't like spoilers,** feel free to skip ahead to the first _real chapter!_

#### Chapter Breakdowns.

* * *

* 01:

Summary of Events and Warnings.

This is the first part of a Series entitled, "A Series of Seriously Bad Decisions." Although, * _please note:_  my writing process involves jumping around in the timeline and drafting many different scenes from multiple perspectives at the same time, so the various parts will not be completed in a sensical order. If you prefer to read things Start to Finish, you may have a long wait ahead of you before you'd be able to properly enjoy this work. However, I will continue to update sporadically, all over the place, often with unpolished chapters, because receiving absolutely any kind of feedback gives me that little happy boost that keeps me motivated to continue. (If you've already left Kudos on the story, I would still very much appreciate a simple comment of "kudos" or "looking forward to the next update" just to let me know that  _someone_ is still interested.)

Since this story is going to be long and a little bit complicated, I’ve decided to compile a guide here with summaries of all the chapters’ events to help everyone keep up with the story’s progression with minimal confusion. Hopefully this will also help those that want to skip over  **triggering**  content and still be able to understand any significant changes that have transpired.

 ***Trigger Related Note:**  I am fallible, so if you notice any triggering content that I’ve forgotten to warn about, then let me know so that I can add it to my list.

 **New Readers be warned!** Everything that follows after this point will be filled with  **spoilers!**

* * *

* 02:

Bitches

**Featured Characters:** Norman "Normie" Osborn, his parents, and a dog named Dolly. 

 **Trigger Warnings:**  Domestic Abuse, Animal Abuse and Death. 

 **Summary:** Norman's mother took him to an animal shelter and they adopted a dog named Dolly.

**Planned Plot Development:**

  * Norman's mother gave him a dog for his birthday. While at first he hated the mutt, he eventually grew very attached to Dolly and considered her to be one of his closest childhood companions.
  * Norman's parents divorced after Ambrose's business ventures failed and they lost their fortune. She left Norman and Dolly in Ambrose's care.
  * Ambrose's drinking problem became worse and he became more and more abusive towards both Norman and especially Dolly.
  * One day Ambrose lost his tempter and kicked Dolly to death in front of little Norman.



* * *

* ??:

The Bitch is Dead

**Featured Characters:** Norman Osborn and some minor original characters.

 **Trigger Warnings:**  death of a parent, funeral drama. 

 **Summary:**  Norman's grandfather Alton insists that Norman attend his mother's funeral. 

**Planned Plot Development:**

  * Norman's mother is dead. His father, Ambrose, paid the Manfredi mob family to kill her. The hit was carried out by a mobster named Joseph (who will in future parts of the story be called Mr. H, AKA Hammerhead).  



* * *

* ??:

I Write Bad Decisions, Not Tragedies

**Featured Characters:** Norman Osborn, Mendel Stromm, Emily Lyman-Osborn, Victoria Hand, J. Jonah Jameson, Harold Meachum and a special appearance of Tony Stark.

 **Trigger Warnings:** awkward/weird relationship drama, closeted gay character, wedding crasher, Norman/Tony hate sex.

 **Summary:** The big day has arrived. Norman and Emily are getting married. Norman and Mendel are experiencing a rough patch, given everything going on. Norman doesn't normally drink, but he has now decided to partake. Meanwhile, Tony Stark crashes the reception and gets more than a bit tipsy. When Tony gives Norman his congratulations the two get into an argument, Norman attempts to drag Tony out and Emily intervenes and takes them both upstairs to their hotel suite. Things get stupid. Hate sex ensues. While they get it on, Emily hooks up with her own secret lover, Harold Meachum.

**Planned Plot Development:**

  * Norman and Emily officially tie the knot.
  * Drunk Tony and Norman get it on.
  * Emily fucks with Harold Meachum and they scheme.




	2. Bitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings** for character death, parental neglect, abandonment, verbal and physical abuse.
> 
> Characters: Norman "Normie" Osborn, his mother, Dolly (Normie's dog), Normie's Nanny, and Ambrose Osborn (Normie's father).
> 
> Last Updated: 7/31/17

####  **Hello Dolly!**

Normie never asked for a dog, but his mother 'helped' him pick out a puppy for his fourth birthday present. They'd gone to a shelter and he'd clutched at her hand while they looked at all the animals trapped in their little cages. The lady guiding them through was very nice, she even helped explain some of their specific quirks and which ones she thought would make the best family pet. 

Normie honestly wasn't especially enthused by any of them, but he gravitated towards a quiet, relaxed old pit bull mix that seemed to be the most mellow of all the dogs this particular shelter had to offer. If he was honest, he thought he'd have much preferred a cat for a pet. They at least were self sufficient, good solitary hunters, and cuddle buddies from what he'd heard. But Mother insisted that they were going to get a dog and kept pushing him towards one young, jumpy little mutt in particular. "Look at this one, isn't she pretty!" 

"I guess," Normie wanted to protest that he didn't want that one, he would've preferred one of the quiet ones, but Mother was already decided on this one. If he tried to say anything it would've fallen on deaf ears anyway. Mother never listened to what he had to say about anything, only selectively heard whatever most benefited her. He didn't even get to pick the name. Unhappily, he followed along while Mother filled out the paperwork and loaded the pup into the car.  

Her name was Dolly and she was an aggressively needy, little creature. Normie tried to ignore her, annoyed by all the loud noises she made, but it was near impossible to avoid Dolly when she seemed to specifically make an effort to attack him at every opportunity. Although, perhaps  _attack_ was the wrong word.

After the first couple times she'd knocked him over, he'd screamed and one of the maids came over and explained that Dolly was just clumsy in her excitement and hadn't actually meant to hurt him. If he put his hands up and reached out to pet her then she would stop short of bowling him over and she would just rub herself against him. He still had to strain to keep his face out of reach, it was bad enough when she licked his hands. Norman did not appreciate slobbery kisses.  

He spit and rubbed at his mouth with his sleeves until he could reach the bathroom to properly wipe all the slimy residue off his face. Dolly would trot along beside him, completely undeterred by his harshest of glares. 

Admittedly, Dolly was a cute and very friendly mutt. If nothing else, her persistence was admirable. Norman could still vaguely recall getting upset with her for all the mess she would make when she got excited. Dolly would frequently whine and beg for attention, she'd jump on the furniture, scatter his toys, trample his books, run away with his shoes and socks. He'd give chase and scream at her,  _"No! Bad Dolly! Get back here."_ Whenever the maids weren't around to shush him, he'd even cuss and swear with those words he'd often overheard Ambrose using when he was upset.

Okay, so the little bitch grew on him, she was always so excited to see him. It felt good to be wanted. He'd never really known what it was like for someone to actually be  _genuinely excited_ to see him until they'd adopted Dolly. His parents rarely made any time for him.

When Ambrose wasn't working, he was puttering around the house and yelling about something. It didn't matter the time of day or night, anytime Ambrose was displeased with anything he made it known. Normie learned very quickly that it was best to avoid his father as much as he reasonably could. Failing that, he was to remain quiet in his father's presence. _"C_ _hildren should be seen, not heard,"_ was an oft repeated phrase that Ambrose usually extended to also include women of any age.  _"If I wanted your opinion, I would've asked for it."_ Ambrose would bark whenever Mother deigned to raise her voice in answer to Ambrose's many, many complaints. 

Mother was home much more often than Ambrose, but she managed to be even less attentive. At best he thought she only ever heard half of what he said and she comprehended even less. She treated his cries for attention like a minor nuisance. When he was very young, a maid would be directed to keep him fed and entertained. As he got older, Mother would simply give him a new toy or book and usher him away to go play by himself or with the mutt.

 _'The help,'_  as Mother usually called them, mostly _tolerated_ Normie, but they preferred to keep their distance. They would only play games with him when Mother demanded. Otherwise the most interaction he could expect from them was a brief lecture about staying out of the way and the importance of picking up after oneself. They always had other chores to tend to. "Not my job," he'd overhead them complaining, "I'm hired to clean house, not to babysit, they don't pay me well enough to compensate for both jobs, but they expect me to multitask and keep the brat out of trouble _and_ leave the house sparkling clean from top to bottom? _Completely unreasonable."_

Meanwhile, Mother would sit around the patio table and gossip with her girlfriends. Rescues were all the rage, Mother had told her friends when she'd first introduced them to Dolly. And when her friends were around, Normie noticed that Mother treated him and Dolly much the same way, like an accessory to flaunt. Once again,  _seen and not heard._

Once or twice a week, she would have a male guest arrive in the middle of the workday, one of her husband's business associates. They would disappear behind locked doors and wouldn't emerge again for almost an hour, sometimes more. Normie never did figure out what their secret activities entailed. He didn't care. 

Most days, Normie felt as though he was all alone, isolated from the rest of the world, and it suited him just fine. He could read his books and play with his toys in relative peace and quiet. He didn't need anyone. Although, he would admit that Dolly's companionship was pleasant as long as she kept her tongue to herself.

By the time Normie turned five, Dolly was his best friend. His only friend. They went on adventures together in the backyard and ventured to the park whenever they could. He told her all about his favorite stories and imagined that she was his sidekick when he played hero. Or occasionally she was the villain, and he would chase her.

But by the time Norman turned six, they were beginning to downsize. They had to move into a smaller house, with a postmark yard, and he wasn’t allowed to venture out alone with her, Daddy said the new neighbors couldn't be trusted. The maids were fired. Normie and Dolly were stuck in a cramped house with his grumpy dad. 

Mother left. Dad told her to take the bitch and the kid with her, but she refused. “You’re stuck with them, Ambrose. Just think of them as something to remember me by.” Ambrose had thrown a bottle at her, but it smashed against the door at the same moment she'd slammed it shut behind her. Normie watched out the window as she left. She didn’t look back. 

Dad had kicked his poor dog so many times, that she'd gotten defensive and mean. She’d even bitten Normie more than once, out of fear and confusion. She’d licked the wounds in apology, but it still hurt. 

Wasn’t long before Ambrose started lashing out at Normie. “Control your bitch or we’re going to put her down.”

She whined too much. She had accidents on the carpet. She shed all over everything. She reminded Ambrose too much of his bitch of an ex-wife. One day, he'd gotten drunk and decided that he’d had enough of the ugly mutt. He smashed a bottle over her head and kicked her until she was dead.

Normie hid in the closet and cried.


	3. The Bitch is Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Potential Backstory for Norman Osborn. 
> 
> This chapter sheds light on how Norman's mother died and how he reacted to the news of her death. Also weaves in a couple small sideplots I'm toying with and the inclusion of a tiny piece of backstory that relates to a future Spider-Man villain. 
> 
> Please comment and let me know if you find this backstory interesting, want to see more, or if you'd rather I focus on other aspects of the series!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings** for reference to child neglect/abuse, alcoholic asshole dad, semi-graphic description of a brutal murder, people in mourning, and threatening language. 
> 
> Characters: Norman "Normie" Osborn, Ambrose Osborn (Normie's father), an extended maternal relative of Norman's, and a thug working for The Manfredi family. Additionally, mentions of Alton Osborn, an as of yet unnamed hitman that works for The Manfredi family and Norman's deceased mother. 
> 
> Last Updated: 6/12/17

#### Opening Scene, Afterschool

Norman was in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal for dinner. There wasn’t much else in the cupboards for him to eat and no milk in the fridge. Normie ate the cereal dry with a glass of tap water to wash it down, but it still left an uncomfortable scratchy feeling in his throat.

There were several more days left before Ambrose was due to receive the monthly stipend that Alton gave him for rent and groceries. Norman could only pray that Ambrose wouldn’t squander all the money on booze again.  
  
Ambrose was already half drunk when he eventually stumbled through the door. Norman could practically smell the alcohol on his breath from across the room. It was with no small amount of relief that Norman observed that his father looked more celebratory than hostile this evening.  "You hear about your mother yet?"

 _'Oh no.'_ Maybe he’d misjudged his old man's demeaner. When his mother comes up in conversation, it is never a good thing. 

Normie shrugged and kept his eyes focused on his bowl. "Don't care, don't want nothing to do with her," he mumbled. It was best to act disinterested and preemptively dismiss her as unimportant. Any hint of concern or longing for that old hag could earn him a very painful reminder of how that awful bitch abandoned them. 

Ambrose clapped a hand on his shoulder and Norman tensed up so much it hurt. "Good boy," Ambrose praised him, "and in a couple weeks you won't ever have to hear about her ever again."  
  
Norman's face scrunched up, repressing the urge to squirm but badly wanting to escape his father's grasp. "Why's that?" he asked.  
  
"Because she's dead." It was stated just like that. Cold, hard fact. "Home invasion at her new hubby's vacation condo. Both of them violently attacked by some psycho wielding a hunting knife. Gutted right there on the bed." Ambrose didn't even bother to disguise how pleased he was with this news.  
  
Norman didn't know how he was supposed to feel about it. He hadn't seen or heard from that woman since she walked out on them and that was years ago. Why should he care if she was dead? But for some reason, his heart was in his throat and he was feeling a little choked up.  
  
"Good," Normie said, because his father was lingering and waiting for some kind of reaction. Ambrose was pleased, beaming with pride.  
  
"My boy," the old man said, "we should celebrate tonight. But Alton half wants to drag you out to attend the funeral, for appearances sake you should probably pretend to be upset about this. Maybe comment about how you've lost the opportunity to ever reconnect. Spin it however your grandfather tells you to."

#### The Funeral

Norman was slow to approach the casket. He overheard compliments to the mortician. One particularly insensitive spectator commented that his mother appeared more life-like now than when she’d been alive. It was all so surreal. There were pictures in various displays and lots of flowers. There were only two photos where he saw his younger self beside her and nothing about them felt even remotely familiar, he'd barely even be able to recognize them if it weren't for the caption. She was never more than a stranger to him.

He just felt angry and hollow inside. He wanted to get away, but Alton wouldn’t let him. He’d sent someone to accompany Norman, for moral support, but Norman immediately understood that the man’s real role was to act as a glorified babysitter.

Looking at her made Norman feel sick. His gut twisted. After nearly losing his lunch in the toilet, he managed to sneak away and hide in the coat closet. He stole a pack of tissues along the way, but his eyes were dry. He wanted to be sad, but all he felt was anger. Rage. Followed by a creeping sense of despair.

All this time, he’d resented her. He’d hated her for leaving, but in truth… he had mostly been envious. She’d managed to do what he couldn't. She’d gotten away from Ambrose. But as it turns out, her ‘escape’ was only a brief respite. Eventually, the past had caught up to her. Ambrose had her killed, there was little doubt about that. Ambrose probably would've kicked Norman to death ages ago if it wasn't for Alton stepping in and making Ambrose's monthly paycheck conditional on his maintaining custody of Norman. Sometimes the reminder of an upcoming visit with Alton was the only thing that stayed Ambrose's hand and kept him from inflicting permanent damage. 

The door opened and Norman went stock still, hoping to stay hidden. 

“Norman? _Normie?_ I thought I saw you come in here…” He recognized her from the pictures. She was in quite a few of them. One of his mother’s cousins.

“What - what do you want?” he asked.

“Normie,” the woman looked like she’d been crying. Of everyone here she was probably the most upset. “I’m so sorry,” she sniffled and reached for her pocket in search of another tissue. Norman offered her his. “I just - thank you,” she gratefully accepted his offering and blew her nose. Norman tried not to look obviously disgusted by her emotional display, but he couldn’t completely hide his discomfort.

 _“I’m so sorry,”_ she repeated again and Norman had no idea what this strange woman had to be sorry for. _‘Sorry for your loss’_ was implied at this point, but Norman hadn’t lost anything. His mother had been dead to him for years, this didn’t change anything.

“You know, she thought about going back for you. It was always on her mind, worrying about what horrible things Ambrose might put you through. Normie, it nearly killed her to leave you behind, but it would've killed her to stay. You have no idea the strength it took for her to finally get away from your father." 

Norman could only shift uncomfortably. She was blocking the only exit and he got a terrible feeling that she wouldn't let him pass if he tried. 

"He's a monster, your father. _Ambrose."_ She said his name like it was the most vile sound in the world, so terrible that it left an awful taste in her mouth. "I’m a little surprised that he isn’t here to gloat. Alton must’ve told him to stay away. _It’s their fault,_ all of this, _I know it is._ I can’t prove any of it, but I know it’s true. One or both of them is behind this.”

The allegations were nothing he hadn't already considered, but there was something terribly shocking about hearing them voiced outloud. 

“You know, it took a long time for her to get back on her feet. After she left your father. And then she found Michael and he was so good for her. It was a miracle that she was able to find any happiness after what Ambrose did to her. She had hopes that one day maybe when the circumstances were right, that one day she could fight for you. She was going to try. Norman, she couldn’t sleep at night thinking about what they might be doing to you.”

He stood in shock. His hands balled into fists. He shouldn’t have to listen to any of this! His mother made her choice when she left him! Years later, she doesn’t get to _un-_ make that decision. It doesn’t work like that.

And here he was, scoring top marks in all his classes. He had assurances from his grandfather that if he worked hard and continued his studies, lived up to Alton's expectations, then he would one day inherit The Osborn Legacy. Wealth, prestige, and resources to see his wildest dreams come true. Osborn Chemical Company would be _his_ and he would build upon that to make something even greater, an empire. As long as he could survive a few more years with Ambrose, learning from his old man's mistakes, then Norman could have a bright future ahead of him.

 _What did that gold digging whore think?_ That she could have swooped in _now,_  'rescued' him, and wasted less than a decade nurturing him so that she’d have been able to benefit when he became a success. _Had that been her plan?_

 _No,_ he was wrong before. _This did change things._ Now Norman was glad that bitch was dead.

#### Scene Change

“I want that bitch to die screaming in agony,” the man recalled, “Is that not what you said? And my boy _delivered._  Oh, _did he ever._ How long did the coroner say it took for her to die? Her guts spilling out all over the place. I hear that’s one of the worst ways to go.”

“I already paid in advance,” Ambrose was getting anxious. “What more does the Manfredi family want?”

“And here I thought you were supposed to be some kind of genius,” the man’s smile was cruel. “That tech you made for us, it broke part way through the job. A fatal malfunction. Our boys barely made it out of there by the skin of their teeth. They’re lucky to be alive. The cops that busted in on them? _Not so lucky._ It’s unfortunate when these mistakes happen, Ambrose. People getting hurt and causing a big mess. Normally this sort of thing requires us to tie off loose ends before some investigator finds a thread to pull on. We don’t want this whole arrangement unraveling now, do we? Or did you wanna meet the guy that did your old lady in?” It was a threat. There was no mistaking it for anything else. “Get in the car.” He did. “Don’t worry about Normie. Already sent one of the guys to pick him up after school gets out.”

This sent a shock through Ambrose, he wanted to lash out and strike this man down. It was bad enough when Alton abducted the kid for his bi-weekly bullshit, now Norman was being dragged into _this_? “You won’t hurt him,” Ambrose tried to reassure himself. “Alton has plans for that little shit, and Silvio isn’t so stupid that he’d jeopardize his alliance with Osborn Chemical.”

"I wouldn’t be so sure about your father’s influence if I were you. Afterall, he already gave us the go ahead to shoot you dead if you fail to cooperate.” … “As for the brat…” again with that cruel smile, it seemed even more dangerous through the reflection in the rearview mirror. “You’re right, actually. His life _is_ worth more than yours.” He laughed. Ambrose’s brief sense of relief was immediately overshadowed by rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A young Hammerhead performed the hit and murdered Norman's mother while he was still working to prove himself to the Manfredi family.


	4. Alton Osborn / Family Legacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alton Osborn is Norman's paternal grandfather.
> 
> Everything that follows is just my brainstorming. Nothing is definite. I would love input, if anyone is interested in getting into a conversation about what scenes I could incorporate to build up the backstory for these characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings** for shitty (grand)parenting. 
> 
> Characters: Norman, Alton Osborn.
> 
> Last Updated: 6/20/17

 

Norman’s adolescent life was filled with pain and confusion. Ambrose was never a kind man, even when he was sober.

Norman’s bi-weekly visits with his grandfather provided a grace period where he knew he would not be physically harmed. Alton Osborn treated him either to lunch or dinner. They would talk about Norman’s studies, how he was doing in school, what extracurricular activities intrigued him, his favorite books and that sort of thing. Alton Osborn would always have some sage wisdom that he wanted to share with his grandson.

Alton never called him Normie. No, he always preferred to speak formally. “Norman,” he would say, “you need to learn how to treat people with respect. Look them in the eye. Tell the truth. _A smart man doesn’t lie._ He twists the facts to fit his narrative. Once you learn how to charm your way amongst powerful players and rig the game in your favor - _then you can do anything._ Great power comes with many rewards, son. Literally, _anything_ your heart desires can be yours.”

And by the time Norman turned fifteen, Alton had his suspicions about what it was his grandson _desired._ To his credit, Alton made it clear that he didn't think less of Norman for his _sinful predilections._ "All men have their vices, Norman. It's nothing to be ashamed of." _But -_ Norman knew that this easy acceptance would not come without a catch. "But you can't let these _tendencies_ come between you and your legacy. You can live for love or success, but I warn you - you will never be able to keep both. _Love will blind you._ It makes men weak. Your love and loyalty belong to faith, family and country. That is the image you must present to the world."

"And in truth?" Norman asked, "Faith, family and country, are those what matter most to you?" 

"The truth is whatever I want it to be on any given day." Alton reminded him of a snake in the grass. "Today, with you here, I prioritize family. Tomorrow, as I intend to visit with some friends from The Hill, I will promote my love of country. And on Sunday, I will pay tribute to my faith." 

"But what's the truth? What's your true motivation in all of that?" 

"The truth is whatever best suites my purposes. The truth is that  _I_ am at the center of my own world, and I behave accordingly. People are all the same, as individuals we all strive to do whatever gets us ahead of the other guy. Everyone is driven to act in their own best interest. Trouble with most people is that they're too stupid to know what's best for them, so they must rely on others to guide them. But you and I are smarter than most, aren't we?" 

...

"It's awfully hot outside to be wearing long sleeves, isn't it?"  
  
Norman self-consciously pulled on the frayed edges of his dress shirt. "Ambrose says I should get accustomed to wearing a suit when I'm in the company of powerful people."  
  
Alton fixed him with a knowing stare. "Oh, is that what Ambrose told you? And here I thought it was to cover the bruises." The adult's hard gaze softened a fraction. "Ambrose is a mean drunk. He always has been."  
  
Norman nodded, timidly agreeing, "Yes, sir."   
  
"I'm sorry," Alton offered his most sincere apology, which was still vaguely false sounding to Normie's ears. If he was really sorry, wouldn't he do something to stop it? "I know it hurts, Norman. I do, and I wish it wasn't necessary."

 ...

The subject of a local protest is brought up during one of Norman's sit downs with Alton. 

"Kids these days," Alton says, "they all want to save the world." He had a knowing little glint in his eye as he turned to face the teenager at the table. "How about I let you in on a little secret, Norman." 

Norman sat up straighter, as much as that was possible, and gave his grandfather his full attention.   

"Doing what's right, objectively speaking from a _moral_ standpoint isn't just difficult. _It's impossible."_

"Society would have you believe that there's such a thing as good and evil, that some actions are  _inherently bad,_ but that's simply not true."

_"Rape, murder, blackmail?"_

"They're criminal acts, but you're old enough now that I think it's time to teach you the facts of life. Starting with this, Norman,  _the rule of law_ was invented -  _designed_ by people with power. And it was always intended for those people to use that power - to establish order in a chaotic world." 

...

"Some people might call it madness. They'll tell you that you're insane. Crazy. You may even start to believe them.

"What's really there and what isn't? You'll have plenty cause to wonder.  

"There are two ways you can think about this. As a blessing or a curse.

"The truth is _whatever you make it,_ son. You can choose to think of this as an illness and allow it to impose limitations upon your life. _Or_ you can choose to let it _free you._ You see things, hear things, that no one else can. You can see the darkness lurking in the soul's of men, can't you? That's how my mother described it. Fairies used to whisper in her ear all the time, warning her of treachery. What do the voices tell you, Norman?"

 


	5. Professor Stromm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
> **Trigger Warnings** for
> 
> Characters: Professor Mendel Stromm and Norman Osborn.
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

#### Professor Mendel Stromm

When Professor Mendel Stromm first crossed paths with Norman Osborn, Norman was just a fresh face on the ESU campus.

Stromm noticed him immediately, for his strong jaw and sharp features, he was still a bit thin and gangly - often seen with dark circles under his eyes and messy hair when immersed in lab work or the library, but he cleaned up very nice when it came time for any important meetings and mingling among the elite. And Norman did have a funny way of sneaking himself into places where Freshmen did not belong.

Stromm tried for a very long time to keep his feelings of attraction under wraps. Tried to treat Norman the same as any other student - and he was hardly the first young man to ever catch Stromm's eye. But after Norman enrolled in his classes, and Stromm got a glimpse of the genius hidden behind those blue eyes, he felt himself falling faster and harder than ever before.

But Stromm was still a professional, goddammit. He could handle this. Same as he did with every other pretty face and tight ass that paraded in and out of those doors. He was not going to jeopardize his life's work just to fool around.

And besides, he couldn't even be sure that Norman Osborn would reciprocate. So.... so he couldn't help but catch himself watching Osborn a little more closely than the others and trying to discern whether or not Norman showed any special interest in any of his other classmates - boys or girls, did Norman have a preference? Stromm really wanted to know, despite the fact being irrelevant, because he couldn't possibly make a move either way. 

But it still fueled his fantasies - and this was hardly a first either - Stromm had fantasized about his students before. Although, not really in this exact way or with this much intensity. Sure, there had been some egotistical blowhards that he'd specifically wanted to single out for punishment, to bend them over and fuck them stupid. But the things he wanted to do with Norman, they were different.

Stromm felt a special kinship with Norman, because Osborn truly valued his work - he asked the best questions, had the most insight compared to all of his classmates, and obviously had an ambition to do great things with his life. He had vision, aspirations, and Stromm felt drawn to him. He decided, even if the possibility of more was completely off the table, he wanted - needed - to be involved in this man's life.

Stromm went out of his way to make sure that Norman felt welcome to visit him, office hours or no, he wanted Norman to come to him for any help that he could possibly need - whether it be directly relevant to his research studies or not. And if these conversations involved a little bit more casual physical contact than was entirely appropriate, they both pretended not to notice.

They never crossed that line. They were student and teacher. Mentor and mentee. Nothing more, never anything more than that... until... 

Norman disappeared for three days. Stromm had noticed that Norman had been pushing himself harder than usual the week before, but when the boy missed an important deadline and hadn't so much as sent him an email or given him a phone call in three days, and missed their class...  Stromm was concerned. Probably more concerned than the mentor/mentee relationship could justify. 

He'd caught himself wandering into some of the areas that he knew Norman liked to frequent, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But he didn't find him. Norman wasn't in his dorm room either, and Stromm was very upset with himself for going so far as to try to track him down there.

Finally, Norman came around after hours. Stromm had been in his lab running tests and trying not to think about him. And then there Norman was, drenched from the downpour of rain outside, looking like a sad, kicked puppy.

"Professor," Norman was too full of shame to look him in the eye.

Stromm literally dropped what he was working on when he saw him. "Norman, you look like hell, _what happened?"_

_"I - "_ Norman was shaking his head, glancing at nothing out of the corner of his eye and cursing quietly under his breath. His expression was carefully blank. And Stromm hadn't realized until that moment how often Norman felt it necessary to wear that mask - to disguise his emotional expressions under the appearance of being impossibly unaffected at all times. "There was a - _a family emergency_." 

He was lying. Stromm knew it immediately, he didn't know how he knew, but he did. However, he decided not to call Norman out on it.

"You should come back during office hours. So we can discuss it, and your final grade."

"Can't we talk about it now?" Norman's mask appeared to slip, and it pained him to ask, but he was obviously in turmoil over this. As well he should be, the project he'd left incomplete was a significant factor in deciding the final grade for the semester, Norman would fail without it.

The tantalizing possibility of being able to use this leverage to take advantage of his handsome student was a very distracting thought. Stromm felt disgusted with himself. He needed time and distance to regain his composure. _"No,_ you should - _you_ _really need_ to come back during office hours."

But Norman was a smart boy. Norman had long understood the significance of the looks Stromm had always given him. And he needed to fix this. The Goblin whispered in his ear that he wouldn't get another chance.


	6. Emily Lyman-Osborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings** for
> 
> Characters: Mendel Stromm, Norman Osborn and Emily Lyman-Osborn.
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

#### (Working Title)

Norman and Emily were going to have a baby. Stromm wasn't sure how he felt about this. When Norman and Emily got married, Mendel had managed to console himself with the knowledge that the newlyweds were treating their matrimony as a business arrangement. After all, wasn't that the historical purpose behind marriage? Albeit, Norman fully intended to treat Emily as a full agent in this context rather than property, but Norman was certainly not _'in_ _love'_ with  _her_. Definitely not. _But..._

Emily was so beautiful, an absolute delight at any fancy dinner, smart as a whip, charismatic in the boardroom, and Mendel was too terribly frightened to ever imagine what she might be like in the bedroom. If he thought too long or hard about it, Mendel would have to admit that he was scared Norman might just wake up one day and realize that he no longer has any need to hang around with old, ugly, meek and boring Mendel. 

And maybe Norman would actually be better off without him. Without this secret affair threatening to taint his reputation. Mendel felt both senile and grumpy when held in comparison to his lover's wife. The bald, withered looking college professor that had somehow inexplicably gotten involved with this ambitious young man who had his whole damn life in front of him, _for Christ's sake!_

So sometimes he just couldn't help but to wonder if things were truly meant to work out this way. How long could this facade actually last? _Especially now,_ with a baby on the way, this whole idea was beginning to seem too entirely absurd. How many people would eventually start to notice or question why Mendel Stromm hovered so close to The Osborn Family? Perhaps they would just take pity on him and think that Mendel felt a paternal sort of kinship towards the younger couple, never having any kids of his own. The baby might even come to think of him as playing the role of a kindly grandfather.  

 _Oh Lord,_ Norman is going to be _a father._ To a child. _A baby._ A real live baby. There would be a need for diaper changes, onesies, teeny tiny shoes, adorable mittens and those little hats. _Dear God,_ Stromm was imagining how Norman might look when he takes Emily and the baby out for an evening stroll, with a prim, absolutely posh carriage only befitting of The Osborn and Lyman's Combined Legacy. The perfect image of a beautiful, young couple all ready to take over the world. 

And just where was Mendel in this picture? _Where did he fit in?_ Trailing somewhere behind them, in the shadows or way off to the side and kept out of focus. A shameful secret, a mad genius hidden behind the curtain, forever toiling away with the tech and the chemical concoctions that would help provide the base of this power couple's influence while they covertly hatched a plan to dominate the planet.  

 _Oh sure,_ call it a wild fantasy if you dare, but sometimes Mendel truly believed that Norman considered Machiavelli's Prince to be a how-to guide. 

 _Ugh!_ It was all so very confusing to sit and think about. Especially since he'd told Norman that he didn't want to know what measures had been necessary when the couple had first began _trying_ to have a baby.  

Had they used in vitro fertilization or gone the natural route? Emily had at least tried to be courteous and discrete whenever she stole Norman away for a couple hours on those days when Mendel knew she was ovulating. And no, he hadn't been trying to keep track of her cycle, but he had once accessed Norman's calendar by mistake and noticed things that he couldn't unsee. 

#### Next Scene

Emily and Norman discussing their future child after the ultrasound confirmed that they would be having a little boy. 

"You must be pleased, there's a penis attached," Emily commented once they arrived home. She wore a mischievous grin whilst shedding her coat. Norman came 'round to help her, hanging the garment in the hall closet. 

"I'd have been happy either way," he didn't like the old fashioned notion that a son was needed to properly carry on his family's name. Admittedly, there were other reasons that a boy might be preferential, not the least of which was the fact that Norman's knowledge of women's issues was woefully lacking. Instead of mentioning any of that, he held fast to his previous reassurances. "I told you, I wouldn't have minded if it were a girl." 

He sounded completely sincere, and as far as Emily knew, maybe he really thought that was the honest truth. It was kind of adorable, actually, to think that this might be the lone exception to Norman's usual habit of thinking ten steps ahead of everyone else, because the _only_ way that statement could be true is if Norman hadn't yet stopped to consider the extra hassles of raising a little girl.

"If _he_ were a girl," she corrected. "You really need to stop referring to  _him_ as  _it_ now that we have confirmation of his gender."

She sat on the bench they kept in their entry, happy to get off her sore and swollen feet. The look she sent his way flashed quickly between speculative, appraising and disapproving. With a sigh, Norman finished peeling off his own jacket.  _"Technically,_ we've only seen evidence that suggests  _it,"_ his tone was insufferable. Emily rolled her eyes as he continued to elaborate, "We won't have confirmation until after the baby is born. Even then, we'll only be able to determine his sex, and we still can't be absolutely sure of _gender_ until puberty." _Oh dear,_ Norman didn't even want to begin thinking about what a nightmare that would be.  

He moved to kneel down in front of her, and she gave him an affectionate little pat on the head as he did. "Well, for simplicity's sake and for the sake of our investors, friends and associates - _not even to mention_ my family - you're going to have to fall in line with the status quo here, Norman."

Emily well knew that her husband hated being talked down to, but he must understand the necessity of acting in accordance with high society's expectations, at least while their position amongst the elite is still so new and tentative. As much as she usually enjoyed and even appreciated his social commentary in private, she didn't want him to grow too accustomed to sharing those opinions without thought for the consequences.  

He had been helpfully removing her shoes, but he stopped after unlacing them so he could look her in the eye. The whole time, he tried not to let himself get distracted by the baby bump, but  _it_ was quietly begging for his attention. Emily was probably right.  _"It_ will probably get easier to think of him as a boy once we've finally settled on a name." 

"We would've had one ready months ago if you'd -"

"No."

"I don't see why -"

"No!"

"- you're being so stubborn."

"I said no. We are not naming him after me, my father or Alton."

"Then at least consider one of my male relatives." 

"If I said I'd consider it, would you at least entertain some of my suggestions?"

"We are not naming our son after any comic book characters."

#### Next Scene 

She was affectionately rubbing her rounded belly, and Norman saw this as an invitation to place his hands over hers. He was usually torn between feeling happy and horrified when ever he thought about his baby, but in this precise moment the fear was gone. The latest prenatal appointment went well, both mother and fetus were healthy. No complications as of yet. If things continued to progress as they should, then it would only be a couple more months before they could welcome home the newest addition to their family.  

She raised her arms to reach for his hands and he helped her back to her feet. "Draw a bath for me?" she requested. 

He frowned. "Are you sure that's wise?" 

"Why not?" she pouted.

"I read somewhere that baths can induce premature -" 

"Bullpocky," she complained. "I want a long, hot soak, and I'll be damned if any science can stop me."

#### Next Scene

 _"Mm,"_ she hummed appreciatively, "I don't think I'll ever tire of this." 

"Of what, specifically? Bathing? Being pregnant?" he raised a speculative brow. He was seated in the large jacuzzi bathtub across from her, they'd compromised in keeping the jets off - Norman didn't like having to talk over the loud noises they made. He found the quiet to be more peaceful and relaxing, and she didn't argue because the alternative was having to bath alone and _that was too boring._ Besides, she'd be needing his help to get back up and thoroughly dry off when she was finished in here. 

"Oh God, _no,_  I'm over tired of the hormonal nightmare. Pregnancy is awful. I was just referring to the way you've been treating me lately, Norman. Being waited on hand _and foot,"_ she gave him a sly smile and a wink. She'd set her feet in his lap, and he'd idly decided to massage them, if only because it gave him something to occupy his hands with. 

 _"Mmm,"_ she moaned. "Honestly, _I never_ \- not even since we first got on - _ever_ would've pegged you as such an affectionate and accomodating lover." He didn't trust the mischievious light in her eyes. "Are you ever this gentle with Stromm?" she tried to act innocent as she asked the question, idly playing with some of the bubbles she'd insisted on filling the bath with.  

His hands slid up from where they'd been caressing the sole of one foot to grasp her ankle. Very dainty, delicate,  _fragile._ The darkness that suddenly fell over his demeanor would've been more worrisome if she hadn't already grown accustomed to his mood swings. 

"You know, I don't mean to pry," she kept her voice light, the underlying smile never fading for even a moment. He seemed to snap back to himself after that. 

 _"No,_ you?" He scoffed. "Never the type to pry, but even if you were - I shouldn't have to remind you that what happens between The Professor and I is none of your concern."

"Who says I'm concerned?" The question came off a little more defensive than she intended. She quickly tried to amend this by adding, "I'm just curious, and why shouldn't I be interested to know what my baby's daddy is doing when he's fooling around with one of our company's best assets." 

"Stromm is not an _asset,"_ Norman was openly glaring at her now. 

Emily rolled her eyes, "Isn't he, though? Unless you actually consider him to be a greater liability..." 

"Of course not!" Norman hissed back, barely restraining the urge to start shouting like an angry child. He crossed his arms and very much looked the part of a slouching, petulant kid on the verge of a tantrum anyhow. "I don't want you thinking of either of us as mere pawns on your chess board. Emily, we're all equal partners in this, all three of us."

"But are we?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "Does Stromm even realize what all he's involved in?"


	7. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draft of Norman Osborn playing "Hide and Seek" with little Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings** for
> 
> Characters: Norman, Harry and The Goblin (Auditory Hallucination). Additionally, mentions of Henry and Gabriel, bodyguard and butler.
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

#### Hide and Seek

"Play a game with me, Daddy!" Harry's loud demand burst through the door as the eager little child bounded across the floor to reach his father's desk. Norman had been clicking away on his desktop computer, completely immersed in his work.

"Not now, Harry, Daddy's busy."

"But you promised!" The high pitched whine in Harold's tone was grating. Norman could already feel pressure building behind his eyes, if this continued much longer then he would surely develop a migraine. _"Pwease, Daddy,"_ Harry stuck out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout and lightly swayed on his feet as he clutched his hands together in front of him and looked up at his father from under his long, dark lashes.

Harry's old man let out a long sigh as he peeled his eyes away from the screen to look down at his son. The sight he was met with did more to try his patience than all the whining. _{"My, my, Normie,_ if that isn't the sorriest, **lamest** excuse for offspring that I ever did lay my eyes upon. _So disgustingly needy."}_

{"No, but _what's even more **pathetic** is that you're actually considering this when there's still so much work to be done! _ Normie, _how do you expect to run **an empire** if you fold to the whims of **a child**? Hm?"}_

"Where's Henry? Gabriel? Why don't you go play with one of them." The butler and the guard. Surely one of them could entertain the boy for a little while. _'At least until I finish this.'_

"Gabriel went home for the day, he needs to check in on his nana. And Henry," Harry scrunched his nose as he said the guard's name, "he doesn't play nice. He's a sore loser, he is, and he complains the whole time." Idly, Norman made a mental note to more heavily factor in child-friendly qualities when vetting their personal security. "Besides, you promised that we'd make family time a priority."

"And I did. We have dinner together almost every night."

"But you read the whole time or you only pretend to pay attention while I talk about school. I want real time. **Quality time.** _Like you promised!"_

 _{"Insolent, demanding little **brat.** _ Normie, _you know how to put a stop to this._ Show him the back of your hand. _**Smack his ungrateful little ass**."}_

"I'm going to close my eyes and count to ten, Harry," and by the time I reach zero, he will be out of my sight, the temptation will be gone. No violence necessary. "By then you need to be out of the study, and you best hurry because after that you'll only have forty more seconds to hide before I come find you." 

Harry's eyes lit up. He knew this game! _Hide and seek!_

"By the time I find you, it'll be time to get ready for bed, and you won't make any fuss about it. The longer you keep me searching for you, the better prize you'll win at the end of the game, so you should pick a really good hiding spot and stay very quiet. Do you understand?"

"Yup!"

"Good. Ready, set, go," Norman pretended to cover his eyes while Harry bolted out the door. He lowered his hands back to his keyboard as soon as his son had left the room, without bothering to wait the full ten seconds. Forty seconds later, Norman was again fully immersed in his work and enjoying the peaceful quiet.

Harry had scrambled into a closet and hunkered down behind the jackets. Ten minutes passed and he was very proud of himself for picking such a good hiding spot. But after twenty minutes and not hearing a bit of noise, no foot steps, no doors being opened, _no nothing..._ he knew Norman wasn't trying very hard to find him.

Thirty minutes since the start of the game, and he had to admit that his father was neglecting to even look for him at all. He'd been tricked! But five minutes after that, it occured to him that maybe this was just part of Norman's winning strategy. He snuck around like a ninja, that's why Harry hadn't heard anything. Norman was trying to trick him into thinking that he wasn't looking so that Harry would get bored of hiding and reveal himself! Well, Harry resolved to prove how patient he could be and was _determined_ to wait it out. 

Over an hour spent in that closet and Harold's limbs felt stiff. He buried his face in his arms and began to cry. He'd tried to stay quiet at first, but his breathing grew so heavy that he couldn't restrain a sob and pretty soon after that he was choking up.

Sounds of distress cut through Norman's concentration as he was wrapping up his project. He glanced at the time and knew that he'd forgotten something important.

 _{"Ya know,_ I bet a little love tap on the boy's upturned rear would've been kinder. _Normie, really, **I'm ashamed** to say **I doubted** your strategy, but this mental torment is so much more deliciously cruel."}_

 _"Harry,"_ Norman bit off a curse and rose from his chair. He ignored The Goblin's unwelcome praise and went off in search of his son. It wasn't difficult to find him. The closer he got, the louder the crying, and the more guilt that gnawed away at Norman's gut.


	8. Mother's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
> **Trigger Warnings** for references to a dead parent, grieving child and widower.
> 
> Characters: Norman and Harry. Additionally, mentions of Emily Lyman-Osborn and a nameless Nanny.
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

####  **Mother’s Day**

One of Harry’s earliest memories,

First grade, in preparation for Mother’s Day, all the kids were crafting art projects. Harry was sad, he never knew his mother. But he still loved her all the same, so he made a card for her anyway. He included a drawing of himself and Daddy. He wrote, “Happy Mother’s Day” on the outside, and on the inside, “We Miss You. With love always,” and sloppily signed his name.

When he got home from school that day he brought the project to his father. He hesitated in the doorway. Norman probably wouldn’t even remember this holiday. He never mentioned it before, Harry wouldn't have even realized it's significance at all if they hadn’t made such a fuss about it in school.

When Norman finally noticed his son standing there, he sighed and beckoned him forward. “What is it, son? What’s that in your hand?”

“It’s a card. I made it in school today, for Mother’s Day.” 

Daddy’s mood quickly changed from slightly perturbed to very somber. Norman resisted the urge to instruct Harry to tear the card to pieces, to throw it away, or burn it to ash. Norman had always hated this holiday, and he didn't want nor need any more reminders of Emily’s absence.

“What do you intend to do with it?” Norman asked instead.

“I - well,” Harry was quite bashful and uncertain of himself just then. “I thought maybe you might want to sign it, too. Maybe we could send it to her, but I don’t know how. Can we do that, Daddy?”

“Bring it here, let me see it,” Norman debated how he could handle this most quickly, while still treading carefully around the subject. If he didn’t provide a satisfactory resolution to this issue, it would just crop up again and again until he found a way to fully address it.

As he evaluated his son’s work, his spritely old friend had many suggestions. None of them helpful. Norman chose to ignore them as best he could. Instead he tried to think of what Emily would’ve wanted him to say.

“It’s very personal,” the lump that caught in Norman’s throat surprised him, as did the sting in his eyes. “Very thoughtful,” his voice was slightly strained despite his best efforts to keep it level and smooth. “Emily, your mother… she would've liked it.” 

Harry had tears in his eyes as he smiled up at his father. It was strange to hear her name, but nice to know that he would’ve made her happy.

Father didn’t like to talk about her, he hid most of the pictures. Thinking about Mommy made Daddy sad or angry, it was sometimes hard to tell the difference. Suddenly, Harry felt bad for bringing this to his father’s attention. When Daddy got upset, he liked to lock himself away and Harry wouldn’t see him again for days at a time. He didn’t want Daddy to disappear. He needed to cheer Daddy up quickly. _'But how?’_ he wondered.

“It’s okay, Dad. We don’t need to talk about it if it makes you sad.” He reached out to tug on his father’s sleeve and retrieve the card from Norman’s hands. “I’ll keep this somewhere safe until Sunday. And then maybe we can put it in an envelope and send it to a better place - that's where Nanny says dead people go.” 

Daddy’s face was frozen somewhere between laughing and crying. Harry thought that this was an improvement from that sad, empty look he’d worn before. “Okay,” Norman said after an exasperated sigh that was secretly filled with relief. “Run along, scoot, go do your extra reading and let me finish my work.”

“I’ll see you at dinner?” Harry asked, eyes shining with hope.

"If not, I’ll stop by before you go to bed,” Norman promised. He felt generous, Harold deserved to be rewarded for… _for being a little less clingy than usual,_ that was all.


	9. Quiet Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Norman does care about Harry. When all of the voices are quiet and no one else is around to witness his weakness, Norman checks in on his son and expresses his love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings** for
> 
> Characters: Norman and Harry. Additionally, mentions of Emily Osborn, The Goblin, and Professor Mendel Stromm.
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

#### Quiet Moments

Norman Osborn didn't like to advertise the fact that he cared about anything. He knew from experience that people would use that information against him.

His father had destroyed his comics, his fantasy books, killed his dog, and would deny him his favorite foods and activities until he did what his old man had demanded of him.  
  
People in school would have tormented him if they'd known he was gay. He was not blind or deaf to the harassment that his peers faced whenever anyone even suspected them of being homosexual. Norman learned to keep to himself, to keep his pleasures quiet.  
  
So he didn't like to ever let on to how much he enjoyed his son's company. How deeply he loved that annoying little shit. He wouldn't even allow himself to acknowledge it privately, lest his own mind would turn that information against him.  
  
But sometimes when The Goblin had gone quiet. When no one else was around. When Harry was asleep. Norman found himself hovering beside his son. Just looking in on him. Checking to make sure the stupid child hadn't choked on a Lego or something equally ridiculous that could have done him harm. He would watch the rise and fall of Harry's chest. Listen to the quiet sounds of his breathing. Inhale, exhale. If he wandered close enough, he would brush his hair aside, lean down and kiss his son's forehead. Quick and chaste and definitely light enough to avoid waking the boy.  
  
If Harold ever groggily opened his eyes, Norman would quickly hush him and soothe him back to sleep before Harry could wake enough to form any memory of those stolen moments. The sight of those pretty green eyes, so much like Emily's, would send Norman into a spiral of self-hatred. He would immediately feel the urge to flee and find some dark corner to hide his shame while he wept.  
  
He remembered the promises that he and Emily had made when they decided to get married. They hadn't been _in love._ Norman had been completely taken with his Professor. But he and Emily had loved each other. They shared similar goals, they wanted many of the same things in life.

And when the tears dried, he cleaned his face, often forwent allowing himself any sleep, and got back to work. The memories were too painful to dwell on. But he still owed it to Emily to see their grand ambitions come to fruition. To protect their son, her legacy, and to do his part to save the world from chaos and tragedy.


	10. Drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
> **Trigger Warnings** for a child's near-death experience, drowning. Auditory Hallucinations.
> 
> Characters: Norman, Harry, The Goblin (Auditory Hallucination). Additionally, mentions of Emily Lyman-Osborn
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

#### Happy Birthday, Harry!

For Harry's seventh birthday he wanted a family vacation! Just him and Daddy. No nannies or butlers and absolutely no work!! Family time with just the two of them. So that Daddy would _have_ to pay attention to him! They made reservations for a private little beach house on a big lake. 

The whole first day was spent getting settled into the cabin, which was actually fairly modest by Osborn's standards. Two bedrooms, shared bathroom, jacuzzi tub, and a full kitchen that opened up to a large lounge area. They were going to eat a late dinner on the deck, overlooking the beach and enjoying a perfect view of the sunset over the water. The radio was switched on to some classic rock station, which was a bit of compromise for both of them. Harry was bouncing along to the rhythm of the music, alternating between singing along and humming the tune when he forgot the lyrics, which was often. Meanwhile Daddy set the takeout containers down and went back to the kitchen to fetch the plates and the silverware.  

"Elbows off the table, Harry."

Harold rolled his eyes, but fixed his posture with only a little grumbling.  _"We're_   _on vacation._ Can't we relax the rules  _a little?"_     

Norman's glare was full of well-meaning reproach. "Just because it's only the two of us here doesn't mean you can behave like a slob."  

#### Next Scene

"There's tennis and basketball courts, volleyball, and all sorts of games back at the lodge. Oh, and you can rent boats or jet ski, and the book thingy says there's hiking trails and horseback riding and a zipline tour!" Harry didn't know where to start, there was so much to do. The more activities Harry listed, the less enthused Daddy seemed to be. "Or if you're too tired for all that, we can stay here. Chill out on the beach or go inside and watch TV."

Norman's eye twitched with displeasure after listening to that last suggestion. "You did not drag me all the way here so we could watch TV. We have a better set up for that at home." Harry was able to detect a definite note of disgust or perhaps just very severe annoyance.

"Yeah, _I know!"_ Harry's enthusiasm was being drained away and dragged through the mud by Daddy's tired and mopey attitude. _"I -_ ugh, _what I meant to say_ was that it's  _okay_ if we just sort of do nothing. As long as we do nothing _together."_

"And just so long as nothing doesn't involve phones or laptops," Norman didn't disguise how much he was still annoyed by that stipulation.  _How had he been tricked into agreeing to that anyhow?_ Harry and The Professor had both ganged up on him, that's how. And Norman was powerless to refuse when they both used targeted cuddle attacks and pouty faces to weaken his defenses.  _'Damn them.'_

_Zzzt zzzt._

A buzzing in Norman's pocket interrupted. 

Of course he'd still been allowed to bring his phone. It would've been impractical to leave it behind, but he'd promised not to use it excessively or for any work purposes. His email and other alert notifications had been turned off except for Severe Weather Warnings and some select contacts. 

Harry watched Daddy with a critical eye as he retrieved the phone from his pocket.

"Text, from The Professor," Norman said by way of explanation. Harry's face brightened immediately.

"What's it say?  _What's it say?"_ he excitedly leaned over the table to get closer, even though it would've been impossible for him to read it from this angle anyway. 

##### From: Dr. Mendel Stromm

  * Hey foxxy. Settled in okay? I miss you both already. Send the little bunny my love in the form of an extra goodnight hug. 



"He says he misses us. Should I tell him we're settled in and having lots of fun?" 

"Yes!" Harry agreed immediately. "Make it sound so wonderful that he'll want to drop everything and come join us." 

Norman raised a brow at that, "And here I thought this was supposed to be ourfamily vacation."

"Yeah, but The Professor  _is_ family." 

_Okay,_ that was a little more heart-warming than Norman was expecting. It was a shame that they couldn't make their arrangement official, but it was reassuring to know that Harry was happy and willing to embrace Mendel in that role anyhow. 

"He is. I'll see if I can't tempt him away from the lab."

##### To: Dr. Mendel Stromm

  * We miss you too. You could still join us. Hug the little brat yourself.



##### From: Dr. Mendel Stromm

  * I wish I could. But one of us should stay behind to oversee these trials. And no, dont u dare get me started on the shop talk. You and Fluffy can relax without me. I trust you.



Dr. Stromm was beginning a new set of trials this week for the Oz Formula, their latest attempt at recreating the super soldier serum that created Captain America. And even while Stromm's presence wasn't  _technically_ required, they had other scientists and lab techs available, this project was too personally significant for Stromm to abandon during this critical stage. 

##### To: Dr. Mendel Stromm

  * Spare me the lecture, he's so sweet it's insufferable. If I need insulin shots after all this, I'm blaming you. 



"What did you say?" Harry asked after Daddy hit  _Send_ and placed his phone on the table.

"I told him that he's still welcome to join us." Harry seemed satisfied with that and settled back into his seat. 

"Hey, I can have another soda, right?" 

_"No._ You've already surpassed your limit for the day." 

"But we're _on vacation."_

"That doesn't give you license to throw out all the rules. I'm going back in for dessert." They'd stopped at a local grocery earlier to stock up on frozen treats and pick up the breakfast food essentials. "I can fetch you a glass of water while I'm at it."

"No, I'll get it!" Harry hopped off his chair and trailed after his father. With their dirty dinner plates in hand. 

##### From: Dr. Mendel Stromm

  * I would argue that he inherited his sweetness from you, but I'm not sure I could say it with a straight face. 



"Is that The Professor? Is he coming?" Harry's eyes brightened with hope and Norman suddenly regretted entertaining the possibility at all. 

##### To: Dr. Mendel Stromm

  * If you really want some sugar, you and your gay face can come get it. 



##### From: Dr. Mendel Stromm

  * I love you. Goodnight. 



##### To: Dr. Mendel Stromm

  * Goodnight. 



_'No.'_ That was too impersonal. Norman's fingers hovered while he considered his response. 8 letters, two spaces, punctuation optional. He could respond in kind, _I love you._ But Mendel knew better than to expect it from Norman.

##### To: Dr. Mendel Stromm

  * Goodnight. 



#### Next Scene

Daddy was being a grumpy lump and catching up on some reading while Harry played in the water. Which was really annoying, because Harold knew that stupid book was definitely work-related. Daddy insisted that it was just fun, light reading, but Harry knew better. The only pictures where strange diagrams and blueprints that he didn't understand. And it was full of big words that he didn't recognize!

After some angry splashing, Harry yelled for Daddy to watch what a good swimmer he was! He'd been taking lessons for quite a while now and he remembered the way all the other kids would brag about how far and how fast they could go. 

But he got a little too ambitious. He swam out too far and realized too late that he couldn't reach the bottom. He'd wandered out into a drop-off area. He was treading water, but it was getting more and more difficult to keep his head above water. The current was getting stronger and it threatened to drag him under. He started to feel frantic, "Da- !" He tried to shout but a wave slapped him in the face and he lost his breath. He didn't think Daddy could hear him, but it was too late to try again. He couldn't gather enough air, couldn't keep his head up far enough to try.  

Norman was absorbed in his reading and making idle conversation with his Goblin friend. Planning how to utilize these news tools. Then The Goblin happened to make the offhand comment, { _"_ _Ah,_ finally, _some peace and quiet._ "} 

Norman almost agreed, when the thought occurred to him that it was _‘too quiet.’_ He dropped his book and started looking for Harold. The boy wouldn't have wandered off without saying anything. Norman tried to remember the last thing he'd heard his son say, but all he could recall was, _"Daddy, Daddy! Watch me!"_ His heart sank, but he forced his mind to stay calm and watched the water intently, hoping that Harry would remember at least something from the water safety course he'd been put through.  
  
_'There!'_ Norman spotted a tuft of hair bobbing in the water. Harry was trying very hard to maintain the T pose that he'd been taught, but he was scared. He wanted to keep crying out for his Daddy, but waves kept pushing his head under everytime he tried to take a big breath. The choking made him lose focus on maintaining his position causing him to slip further down, and his arms were getting tired from trying to push himself back up to the surface every time that happened. 

Norman dove into the water and swam as fast as he could to reach his son. By the time he got a grip on the boy’s arm, Harry had gone slack. Norman held Harry buoyant on his chest with one hand while he used a combination of kicks and backstrokes to propel them back to shore.  
  
Once they got back to shallow waters, he lifted the boy to carry him bridal style while he tried to assess his son’s condition. He still had a pulse, but he wasn’t breathing and he felt _so cold._  

Norman set his son in the sand and attempted what he remembered of CPR. Chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth. He cleared his mind of everything else. _'_ _This has to work,’_ he'd thought. _'Don’t die on me. Don’t you dare die, Harry.’_  When his son’s eyes opened and he began choking up water, Norman nearly fell over with relief, but he continued to hold Harry steady, tilting him onto his side and rubbing his son’s back in an attempt to soothe some of the distress.   

Harry's face was streaked with tears. He'd coughed up all the water from his lungs, spluttered and gasped for air.

Norman breathed a heavy sigh. The Goblin's continued presence was a constant, faded buzz of annoyance, {" ** _stupid_** _child_ ,"}but the evil gremlin's irritation was completely overshadowed by Norman's grief. 

Harold had very nearly died because he hadn't been paying enough attention to keep his errant child close to shore. He'd been consumed in his work, plotting mischief and mayhem with his green companion. 

Norman's heart ached, as he remembered Emily. If he were a religious man, perhaps he would worry that she was out there watching them, looking down on the mess he'd made. He'd nearly killed their son through neglect. What’s more, Emily probably would've blamed his parenting style for encouraging Harold to try swimming out so far in the first place.

It was his own fault for impressing upon Harry the necessity of physical strength - asserting the same looming pressure as his father did for him - demanding that the boy earn his worth and prove himself.

But Harry had survived. There was still time to make this right. 

His son was crying, stuttering and stumbling to form words between his breathless sobs. 

"Harry, don't try to speak, just breath. Focus on breathing, son. In. Out. There we go. In. And out."  Harry laid on the beach, clutching Daddy's hand while Norman knelt over him. Gradually, his breathing returned to normal. In the meantime, little Harold was completely entranced by his father's concerned gaze. 

Harry had never realized how blue his father's eyes were. Or that they could ever be so soft and caring. Daddy usually acted so stern and cold.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Harry tried to avert his gaze, but Norman raised two fingers under his chin to tilt his head back up.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," Norman said, his voice was hard as stone, but his touch was gentle and tender as he gathered Harold into his arms and held him tight against his chest. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, _Daddy,”_ Harry begged forgiveness.

_“Shhh,”_ Daddy said, “Let’s go back inside, get you some dry clothes and settle down for a little nap. Okay?”

Reflexively, he wanted to deny being tired, but that would’ve been a lie. “Will you stay and cuddle with me?” Harry asked, with big eyes and pouty lips.

“After the stunt you just pulled, I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Norman tried to make his voice sound gruff and irritable, but it was obviously full of concern. “You’re going to be stuck with my hovering for the rest of the week,” he admonished the kid with a wet kiss on his forehead. “Happy birthday, you little shit.”

For the rest of the long weekend, Norman wouldn’t let Harry out of his sight. He even hovered by the bathroom and left the door open, although he made an effort to avert his gaze. He moved Harry’s things into his room, insisting that they share and his bed was easily big enough for the both of them. Harry didn't argue. 

Norman scolded him for being so stupid, but he also cuddled him more than he ever had before. And he was overprotective too, refusing to ever allow Harry to go swimming again without proper supervision. 


	11. Back to School Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted a story with Little Harry going clothes shopping with the nanny and being drawn towards girly things. The nanny says no, and steers him towards the boy clothes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
> ** Trigger Warnings **
> 
> Characters: Norman and Harry.
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

#### Back to School Shopping

When Harry gets home, he complains that she wouldn't let him get the pretty hairclips or the princess dress or sparkly jacket that he wanted. And I want Norman to explain to Harry that if he wears those things out in public, he'll be mistaken for a girl.

"Do you want strangers to make that assumption?"

"Why would that be such a bad thing? What's wrong with being a girl?"

And Norman is like, 'ugh, I didn't prepare for this conversation' and so he's like, "there's nothing inherently wrong with it, but when people don't present how society expects them to, then sometimes strangers get confused. And when people get confused it can make them angry and mean. If you dress up as a girl, then ignorant jerks are going to make fun of you for it and you might get hurt."

 "I don't see how that's supposed to be my problem. And why do  _girls_ get dibs on all the glittery and pretty things anyway? _That's not fair."_

"Try thinking of it as wearing a costume. When you go to school, you need to play the role of the good, unassuming student. You don't want to blend in so well that you completely fade into the background, but you also can't stand out too much or else that can lead to trouble."

So I want Norman to give Harry permission to dress himself however he wants at home (except for when they have company over), but Harry has to dress boyish, neat, and respectable whenever he leaves the house. Maybe Norman actually makes a trip to the store with Harry to pick some stuff out and to try to gauge why Harry is so interested in that stuff (does he think it's funny or is he just really into that stuff?) And he lets him pick out just a couple things.

"You can pick one. Just one. Nope. One. If you keep whining, it'll be none."

"But I can't decide."

"You have thirty seconds or we leave with neither one."

_"Wait, wait, wait!"_ Harry exclaimed and then gave a defeated sigh, "okay," he accepted that he had to make a choice. "But which one do you like best?"

Norman covered his face with one hand and then randomly pointed with the other.

"Nuh-uh!" Harry complained, _"come on!_ Be honest!" Bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, Harry swished a dress over his chest and then held a lavendar one in front of it. His smile turned sly as he said, "The purple one would match your favorite tie."

"We are not coordinating outfits, Harry."

"But -" Harry wanted to argue, but Norman cut him off. 

"Like I said, this is for around the house _only._ You are _not_ going to be dressing like this in public." There was a very brief moment of silence, the dresses in Harry's hands sagging lower until they brushed against the floor while Harry's mind made the immediate connection of why coordinating outfits would be useless. 

"And you're never around the house," Harry couldn't keep the resentment out of his voice when he said it. 

"That's not true," Norman corrected him, although his voice betrayed the fact that he knew Harry's statement was only false on a technicality. 

"Well, you stop by once in a while, I guess, but most of the time I never even see you come home to sleep." 

There was little use denying it. Norman had a room prepared adjacent to his office at OsCorp. At first, he'd only intended to use it for a siesta when he needed some rest midday after late nights brokering shady deals or the occasional overnighter catching up on him. But lately, he had taken to sleeping there just to avoid going home.

"This is neither the time nor place to be discussing this, Harry," there was a heavy warning in his words, the weight of it settling uncomfortably on both Osborn's shoulders. Norman's perfect posture drooped for a half a second while he sighed before he became rigid once more. "If you want to continue this conversation -" 

"I want the green one," Harry interrupted him.  He raised the pretty emerald dress back up and hugged it to his chest. "It matches my eyes." 

Norman spared a curt nod in aggreement, and then without another word, he took his son by the hand and led him to the register. Harry clutched his prize tightly as they made their way back to the car. The corners of his eyes prickled with tears of frustration.  

Harry didn't know whether to be more happy or confused. He had his dress. He _should_ be happy. He'd gotten his way, but that was little consolation in the face of his larger dilemma. Daddy still didn't want anything to do with him. He all but admitted it, hadn't he? 

"Why don't you come home?" Harry asked. He was staring down at the bag in his lap. Unwilling to take his eyes off it, for fear that it was going to be snatched away. The question was met with silence. Norman's eyes were fixated on the road, even though Harry knew that the task wouldn't require his father's full attention. There was no reason for Daddy to be ignoring him now, other than the fact that Norman just didn't want to deal with him anymore. "Daddy," Harry whined.

"It has nothing to do with you, Harry." 

"You mean, you want nothing to do with me," Harry mumbled in return. 

"If that were true, I wouldn't be here now." Norman's tone had a hard edge to it, warning Harry to back off. "You know how important my work is. It keeps me very busy." 

"So it's not that you don't care about me. It's just that work is _always_ going to be more important." The words were sullen. Harry was already resigned to this reality. 

The Goblin's laughter echoed throughout the confined space, although only Norman could hear it.  _'This isn't funny,'_ he wanted to argue with his hallucination, but he held his tongue. 

The longer the silence dragged on, the heavier Norman's gut felt, as if under the strain of a great weight pulling it down. Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer. "I only want what's best for you, for both of us. Right now, it may seem as though my work is taking priority over everything else, but that's simply not true. Family is _always_ going to come first, and I don't want you to ever doubt that."

He paused, to take a breath and contemplate what else needed to be said. If he didn't nip this argument in the bud, then it wouldn't be long before Norman's angst would blossom into anger and rage. His spoiled little brat had _no idea_ what efforts  _and pains_ it took to keep his company afloat after the devastating loss of Professor Stromm and Emily Lyman-Osborn.  

In the meantime, Harry was glancing up at him. There was a queer look on the boy's face, his expression torn between hopeful and sad. Harry wanted to believe everything his father said, but he couldn't understand why he had to be left alone. How could feeling neglected possibly benefit either of them in the long run? 

Harry tentatively broke the silence. "But I need -"  _I need you at home,_ he wanted to say. 

Norman cut him off with a snarl,  _"You need to learn how to keep your mouth shut._ **Stop your whining,** Harry." Norman abruptly broke off from his tirade when he noticed tears streaming down his son's face. After taking a moment to compose himself, he said, _"I know_ it's difficult for you to understand right now, but this isn't easy for either of us. My position at OsCorp comes with many advantages, but it also carries extra responsibilities. I have an obligation towards clients, investors, stockholders, employees, and _the world at large_ stands to benefit from most of our research. National, even global, security may be at risk," and this wasn't an exaggeration. If Norman's suspicions proved true, then there was so much to fear. 

Norman switched his focus back to Harry before he could be too far diverted by the paranoia that was creeping out of the shadows and threatening to seize him. If he entertained those thoughts at all he risked being gripped by them and captured until long hours into the morning. He needed to avoid that destructive path.  _'Focus on Harry.'_

His son was fighting his tears, anxiously trying to wipe them away with his sleeves. But even through the distress, Harry was obviously hanging on his father's every word. Norman put a lot of emphasis into his next words.  

"At the end of the day, _I want to be with you._ Harry, you should know that-"  _that I love you._ But the words got stuck in his throat. 

#### Returning home,

Norman wanted to reach out for his son. To just touch his arm or hold his hand, to emphasize the fact that he was here for him now. But The Goblin kept whispering about what a needy, ungrateful little brat Harry was. The Goblin wanted Norman to reach out, but not in kindness. And Norman just couldn't trust himself. If he tried to touch Harry now, there was too strong a possibility that it would be done in anger. His son would walk away with bruises, if he was lucky enough to still be capable of walking at all once The Goblin was through with him. 

So Norman refrained, and when Harry's hopeful eyes looked up at him, clearly searching for what his father couldn't or wouldn't give him, Norman regrettably could think of no other excuse than promptly needing to return to the office.

"It can't wait 'til tomorrow?" Harry's voice was a hollow echo of his earlier complaints. Bitter, but unsurprised. Disappointed, but resigned.

"No. Harry,"  _I'm sorry._

{ _"Don't apologize._ "} The Goblin sneered from behind him. For a terrifying moment Norman imagined a clawed set of fingertips on his shoulders while the voice drew closer. { _"We never apologize._ "} 

"It can't wait." 


	12. Norman & Harry, Lion King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I needed to work in a story somewhere about kid!Harry having nightmares that Norman was going to be trampled to death by a herd of startled wildebeest. Because The Lion King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
> Trigger Warnings
> 
> Characters: Norman and Harry.
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

#### Don't Leave!

"Please, _don't leave._ Call it off, stay home. I need you _here_ , with me." 

"You'll be fine without me. I made arrangements so Bernard and Maria will be checking in on you, and Eddie volunteered to stay and keep you company while I'm gone."  

 _"But_ \- but what about all the wild beasts, _Dad!"_

 _"The wild - "_ Norman cut himself off with a sharp shake of his head. "What are you talking about?" 

"I have a really bad feeling about this trip."

"Bad _like how?"_ Norman suddenly realized what the wild beast comment must've been referring to. "If you're referring to that dream -"

 _"Nightmare!"_ Harry interrupted. "It was a nightmare, but sometimes those can foreshadow _shh-_ tuff. Bad stuff. Like a pre-meditation. _Err,_ a per- _purr_ - _ma_ -nition _?"_

"Premonition, and _no._ It was _just_ a bad dream, not a vision of the future. I am not going to get trampled to death by a herd of wildebeests. That's ridiculous. Harry, I'm just going to a conference and a few private business meetings. I'm not going to be hanging out in the savanna."

 _"Okay,"_ Harry dragged out the word while he tried to devise of a way to strengthen his argument. _"But_ it could still be a metaphor, a warning of some kind of disaster."

"If it looks like there's going to be a stampede of idiots or drunks, I'll be sure to steer clear."

_"Dad!"_

_"Harold,_ calm down. You just watched the Lion King a few too many times."

"But I'm scared," Harry admitted. "I don't want you to go. I don't want to lose you too." Harry sat on Daddy's bed and hugged his knees to his chest. He gave up glaring at the suitcase in favor of pouting and purposefully trying to look as sad and pathetic as possible in a last ditch effort to win sympathy points. 

Norman set aside the selection of neckties that he'd been contemplating and cleared off some space to sit next to his son. "I'm only going to be gone for a week. You can call me _any -"_ he thought better of what he was about to say, lest his whole trip wind up being spent on the phone, "anytime after dinner and before bed. If there's any emergencies, you take them directly to Bernard and he'll get in touch with me. Do you understand?" 

Harold nodded and leaned forward to rest his head against Norman's shoulder. Daddy reached one hand up to pet his son's hair. _'Fluffy,'_ he smiled as he twirled a lock between his thumb and forefinger. Harry happily responded by clumsily trying to maneuver himself into Daddy's lap. Instead, Norman tipped over so he could lay on his back with Harry sprawled across his chest. Daddy wrapped his arms around Harry to keep him in place.

 _"I'll be fine,"_ he promised. "Everything is going to be just fine." Norman's voice was calm and reassuring, betraying none of his underlying worry. "Tell you what, Harry, whenever you start to feel anxious or scared that something might happen to me while I'm away, there's something I need you to do for me."

_"Yeah?"_

"I need you to remember two words. Can you do that Harry?" Norman sounded very serious.

"Yes. I can. _I will._ What words?" 

Norman's voice was grave as he said "Hakuna," paused for effect, "Matata." As Harold groaned, he rolled off his father's chest. Norman lightly smacked his son on the back with a pillow and got off the bed to resume his packing. 

Harold was in an obviously exaggerated amount of pain, muttering, _"oh my gosh,_ you did _not_  just say that," between groans.

"There's no need to worry about me. I'm a grown man, and I can see to myself. You just focus on your homework and kid stuff."

"Kid stuff," Harry echoed with furrowed brows. He wasn't sure if he was being talked down to right now or not.

"Yes," Norman confirmed.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" 

Norman pretended to ponder the question for a moment then shrugged, "I wouldn't know. I never really bothered with that nonsense, never had time to fool around when I was coming up, couldn't afford the luxury. _But you..._ you should enjoy it while it lasts. Supposedly, it all turns sour once you reach adulthood."

"I like sour candies."

"Yes, that's exactly what I was referring to." Norman spoke in his usual deadpan, the one that would've made it impossible to tell if he was joking if the words weren't so obviously silly. "Adulthood is nothing but sour candy, _with a bitter aftertaste,"_ he muttered the last part under his breath.

 _"Okay,_ then - I guess I'll stick with my sour patch kids, so I can just get the best of _both._ Sour _and_ sweet."

#### Next Scene

Harry insisted that he wanted to call his father every day that Norman was away. He wanted to check in to make sure he was safe, and to make sure Daddy knows that his son loves him. Because there’s so many bad things that can happen. _Accidents_. Mommy had died in a car accident. Travelling could be _so dangerous._ In the movies and on tv, those accidents always seem to happen when the characters start to take each other for granted so that they forever regret that they never got to say goodbye.  
  
But _honestly,_  Harry wasn’t as utterly convinced of this danger as he pretended. _True,_  he’d had nightmares that Norman would die and leave him all alone with Eddie, but as soon as he woke up he refused to believe it. Because nothing could touch Norman Osborn. Father was invincible, maybe even immortal. He couldn't be killed. In fact, nothing could ever hurt him. Daddy is too strong to ever let anyone or anything ever cross him, not even death.


	13. Not so Innocent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the very beginning of Eddie deciding to groom Harry for sexual stuff. It's super creepy and gross and I'm really sorry for everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings** for the rape of an unconscious child. 
> 
> Characters: Eddie, Harry and mentions of Norman. 
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

#### Not So Innocent

It had all started out innocent enough. _But..._

Things took a strange turn one night, Norman was away on business and like usual Harry had asked if Eddie would spend the night. Eddie agreed. Once the homework was done, they did fun things together. They ate ice cream and watched Harry's favorite cartoons.  
  
Eddie tickled him, he teased him, and then he - _he kissed Harry._ It was innocent, his lips just brushed Harry's cheek but Harry was blushing and his mouth fell open in shock. He'd never been kissed before.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"  
  
"N-no,” Harry looked down as he shook his head, “I'm fine. It's alright.” His hands were fidgeting in his lap and he snuck quick glances up at the older boy from under his eyelashes. “That, um… it actually felt kinda nice.”

"You liked it?" Harry nodded. "C'mere. Closer. Does this -" Eddie raised a hand to gently stroke Harry's cheek, to cup under his chin and use the back of two fingers to slowly caress Harry's jaw and his neck. "Does this feel good?" Harry leaned into the touch. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just hummed his approval.  

“Close your eyes for a second,” Eddie instructed and Harry obeyed immediately without even thinking about it. He licked his lips nervously and was surprised when his tongue was unintentionally caught between Eddie’s lips. The older boy gave the appendage a light little suck before he let it go. 

Harry’s eyes flew open and he leaned back in an effort to break contact, but the older boy’s hands had somehow found their way to Harry’s shoulders and held him in place. Harry froze in fear and confusion. One of Eddie’s hands slipped up the nape of his neck to tangle in young Osborn’s hair. With a few gentle strokes near the base of his skull, Harry’s eyes closed and he tried to relax into the gentle kiss. It went no deeper than Eddie daring to give a tentative lick against Harry’s closed lips. 

Harry shivered when Eddie finally pulled away. The smaller boy had a dazed look on his face as he watched Eddie lick his own lips and grin. “was that your first kiss?”

"I - yeah." Harry murmured quietly, his eyes were still fixed on Eddie’s mouth. Harry was blushing so furiously that all his skin felt like it was on fire.  

“I wouldn’t have guessed that. You were incredible,” Eddie praised, “Did you like it?”

The compliment was unexpected, Harry had felt so foolish with his performance. He hadn’t really done anything special to earn it. “It was unexpected,” Harry admitted, “or I guess, I just didn’t know what to do,”

“It’ll get _even better_ with practice,” Eddie promised, “I could help you with that. If you want. Everybody needs a kissing buddy.”

“I - uhh, really? Wouldn’t that be weird? I mean, you’re like a big brother, and I,” Harry tugged nervously at the collar of his shirt. “I’m just a silly kid. Why would you even want to? With me? I uh, um, ahhh,” Harry was rambling and he didn’t know what he was even saying at this point. “I don’t know what or how,” His mouth kept moving and sound was coming out but it was probably only gibberish as far as he could tell. “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Hey, I was just offering. It’s okay if you’re not interested,” but as he said that, Harry could tell that his friend was disappointed.

“I, um, I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” OK, so he had a crush on the older boy. He couldn't help it. Eddie had such pretty blue eyes and blonde hair. He was smart and athletic. Father certainly seemed to like Eddie better than Harry. “But you’re so much older than I am. People might say it’s inappropriate. We could get in a lot of trouble.”

“So we won't tell anyone. It’s only bad if we get caught.”

“You’re blushing,” Eddie observed and delighted in the way Harry’s cheeks grew even hotter. “It’s cute, and I don’t mean for that to sound patronizing. You’re very pretty.”

“I - thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Oh, is that the best you can do? I pay you a compliment, and I’m just 'not bad’ in turn?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say you’re pretty, exactly. It wouldn't suit you. I mean, except for your eyes. But you’re very handsome. Very attractive.”

“I am, thank you. All the girls at school would basically agree. And even some of the boys,” he winked at Harry, “which do you generally prefer?”

“Prefer? You mean, boys or girls?”

“Yeah, have you ever thought about it? Sex, dating? You’re old enough now that you’re bound to have noticed yourself having crushes on some of your classmates.”

“Um, yeah. Boys, I guess, mostly. But girls, too. Do I really have to choose one over the other?”

“You don’t have to, but I never really saw the appeal of girls. Maybe I just never got past the cooties.” 

Harry laughed, “You know that’s a myth! Girls don’t have cooties. That’s just silly. But I think they’re usually nicer than the boys, they just seem softer. Usually, I mean, there’s definitely exceptions to the rule. You’re really nice to me and you’re a boy,” Harry looked a bit sheepish.

“That I am, but if you ever start to wonder I can totally prove it,” he announced, and grabbed the front of his pants. Harry’s mouth fell open, looking aghast.

“No! You don’t have to!”

“Are you sure?” Eddie teased, “You saying that you don’t want to cop a feel or take a _long hard_ look at my manhood?”

“I -”

“Come on, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Eddie suggested.

“I don’t want to play this game, Eddie. Please, can’t we just watch some more cartoons or call it a night?” It was getting late. Harry forced himself to yawn and stretched his arms over his head, exaggerating how tired he felt, but he flinched when he noticed that the older boy was eyeing the way his shirt rode up with the motion. Harry dropped his hands into his lap and curled up into a ball, pushing himself into the end of the couch furthest away from Eddie.

There was something predatory about the way Brock was looking at him. He looked frustrated. Maybe even angry with Harry’s refusal to play his game. Harry didn’t want to upset his friend, but he also _really_ wasn’t comfortable with taking his penis out or the thought of seeing _or touching_ Eddie’s.

“Alright, fine, keep your pants on, Fairy,” his light and teasing tone had a sharp edge to it, he couldn’t completely disguise his frustration. “But you enjoyed the kiss, right? How about we try that again, instead?” 

Harry really wasn’t interested in kissing anymore, but he was glad that they’d moved on from the more private parts. The little kiss had been pleasant. If this made Eddie happy, then Harry could ignore the discomfort. “Okay,” he consented, “yeah, but just little ones.”

Eddie’s grin was full of teeth. A tongue darted out to wet the older boy’s lips and he looked like he was ready to pounce on Harry. “Just little ones, I promise, come here.” He reached for Harry’s arm and pulled on it until Harry fell into Eddie’s lap.

The kisses started on the top of Harry’s head. One at the crown, several on his forehead, down the side of his face. Just light little pecks, a brush with the barest amount of suction making a cute little noise. Harry shivered, by the time their noses were nuzzling and Eddie’s lips found Harry’s, the little boy felt hot all over. Not a pleasant warmth either, but like he was burning up and dizzy.

“I think I need to lie down. I’m really tired Eddie.”

“Okay, I’ll help you into bed,” and Eddie grabbed Harry’s ass with one hand and wrapped the other around his back to lift and carry him to his bedroom.

“Hey!” Harry protested with a surprised yelp, “I can walk just fine by myself! You don't need to treat me like a baby!”

“Yeah, but this is more fun, isn’t it?” Eddie pretended that his grip was slipping so that Harry would wrap his arms around the older boy’s neck and tuck his head under Eddie’s chin.

“Fine! But don’t drop me,” Harry complained. Eddie responded by holding him tighter than necessary, especially the hand supporting the boy’s bottom.

As they went inside, Eddie kicked the door shut behind him.

“Hey! I still need to brush my teeth!” Harry frowned and lightly kicked at Eddie as he was set down on his bed. Eddie pulled back the covers and then gave the grumpy kid a pat on the head.

“Don’t worry about that, we’re not going to sleep just yet anyway.” Eddie started to undo his belt. Harry’s eyes widened, he flailed his hands and shook his head vigorously.

“No! Eddie! I don’t want to play this game,” Harry’s eyes were quickly filling with tears. He was frustrated, scared, but mostly confused with Eddie’s strange behavior. He felt helpless. Eddie was so much bigger and stronger.  Normally he trusted him like a big brother, believing he would never _really_ hurt him, at least not intentionally, maybe just a little when they played rough, but _this_ definitely felt _wrong._

 _“Shhh. Relax_ , Harry, I’m just getting comfortable,” the older boy slid out of his pants, but his boxers stayed in place. “There! See?” Eddie reached over and used his thumb to wipe away a trail of tears down Harry’s cheek.  

Harry nodded, feeling a bit relieved, but still worried. His friendship with Eddie was important to him. He didn’t want to lose it, not over something so silly, and now Eddie probably thought he was a wimpy sissy boy for getting so scared. Eddie had told him that boys get undressed around each other in the locker room all the time. Harry really shouldn’t be so freaked out about this, “you’re overreacting, it’s completely normal.”

“Now it’s your turn, go grab your jammies.” Eddie laid back on Harry’s bed and pulled the cover over his lap in an effort to hide the way he idly stroked himself as he watched little Harold anxiously look through his wardrobe.

Harry felt uneasy changing with the other boy watching him, but he tried hard to ignore it as he rummaged around his drawer for his most concealing PJs.

“It’s a little hot for long sleeves, isn’t it?” Eddie voiced his disapproval of Harry’s choice. Harry just wanted to cover up as much skin as possible. “You’re going to overheat. Just throw on a pair of boxers and a soft T-shirt, silly. Or keep the whitey tighties if you really prefer them that much."

Eddie fetches Harry a glass of water, discretely slipping in a dose of rohypnol that he adjusted specifically for Harry. He drank it all. Eddie smiled as he helped the clumsy, sleepy boy back to bed. Harry wasn’t ready yet, but Eddie was growing impatient. He’d much prefer a conscious Harry squirming underneath him, but at least this little taste would hold him over until he could convince Harry to be a willing participant. 

Once Eddie was sure that Harry had fallen asleep, he stood up and retrieved a small bottle of lube from his overnight bag. He pulled the covers down, pushed Harry’s shirt halfway up his chest and dragged the boy’s underwear all the way down to his ankles.

 _'Fuck, he’s so pretty,’_ Eddie’s hands were all over the boy. He was petting little Harry’s tummy, admiring the way his hands fit around the boy’s hips. He even dipped his head down to suck and nibble on the unconscious child’s nipples. To lick long stripes across his ribs and abdomen. To tongue fuck Harry’s belly button.  

 _'God, I want to fuck your tight little ass. You beautiful, stupid, little boy. My boy,’_ Eddie’s boxers had grown very uncomfortable, his engorged cock tenting painfully hard against the fabric. He hurriedly pushed them off so he could resume touching Harry as quickly as possible.

The little junction between the child’s neck and shoulder tasted so good. He wanted to bite, suck and squeeze Harry’s throat til the whole thing was bloody and bruised. He wanted to mark the boy as his, but he couldn’t risk it. There would be too many questions if anyone ever noticed. He settled for licks and kisses, delighting in the small gasping noises Harry occasionally made. Eddie was confident that the effects of the drug would keep the boy from waking.   

He was also incredibly pleased when he noticed Harold’s penis start to swell. Feeling generous, Eddie knelt down to have a little taste. He suckled on the tip until the boy was fully aroused.

And then he just couldn’t help himself and decided to experimentally investigate Harry’s puckered hole. He sucked on three of his own fingers, thoroughly coating them with saliva, and then gently began to prod at the rear entrance.

The sleeping boy groaned in protest and Brock remembered the lube he’d set on the bed. He popped the cap and dribbled a small puddle on Harry’s navel. Then he spread it all over his fingers, down the boy’s cock and pressed against the outer rim of clenched muscles.  There was much less resistance this time as he pushed a finger inside, down to the second knuckle. He wiggled it while his other hand played with Harry’s slick dick. 

He worked his way up to three fingers while he jerked Harry off. After the boy came, Eddie leaned forward to plant wet kisses on the boy’s forehead and mouth.

The sight of the small boy spent all over himself made Eddie’s dick so hard that he felt his hips jerk reflexively. Finally he decided that it was time he finish this. Eddie climbed on top of Harry, with his knees on either side of the boy’s hips. He slicked up his own cock and touched himself, imagining the way Harry would squirm and cry and _beg_ if he were awake for this. As he got caught up in the fantasy, he braced his arms on either side of Harry's head and began thrusting against the boy’s tummy, where it was still slick with lube and spit and cum.

 _'So soft and warm, but still not enough.’_ He was nearly laying on top of the boy, his weight awkwardly distributed between one shoulder and knee so that one hand could sneak under the boy and fondle his ass. He was rubbing his dick against Harry's pelvis. Squeezing a surprisingly firm little butt cheek and using his grip to press the boy harder against him. Meanwhile, he licked under Harry’s chin and across his cheek.

By the time he came, Eddie felt satisfied that he had thoroughly defiled Harold Osborn. “Mm, such a good fucktoy. Your father does not appreciate what he has. But don’t worry about him anymore, I’ll be your Daddy now.” Harry didn’t hear a word of it, but he wasn’t really meant to. Not yet anyway. After several long minutes spent enjoying the afterglow, Eddie got up and set about cleaning the mess.

 _'Ah, but wait,’_ as Eddie was wetting a towel, the thought occurred to savor this moment later with something to remember it by. Hm. He hadn’t thought ahead to bring his own camera, but he found one in a desk drawer. He must’ve taken at least several dozen pictures. Capturing the hot mess he’d made first, then wiping the boy down, undressing him completely and propping the unconscious body into several different salacious poses.  

When that was done, he made quick work of redressing the boy, transferring the photos to his laptop and then wiping the camera’s memory. Then he settled into bed beside Harry and pulled the kid tight against his chest, petting his hair as he dozed off.

The next morning, Harry woke up feeling dirty and he didn’t know why. His mouth was dry, his butt felt funny and he had a headache. Eddie was asleep next to him and the older boy's body was a furnace. He must’ve been sweating a lot while he slept, that must be why he felt sticky.

Harry cuddled against Eddie’s side, wishing he could get this close to his father. He hoped his Dad’s trip would end early. Brock had been acting so strangely the previous night and Harry dearly missed the quiet, authoritative presence of his father. Norman Osborn was nearly a God, as far as his son was concerned.

Father was extremely intimidating, and while Harry would sometimes feel scared if Norman ever directed any sort of anger at him, he also implicitly trusted his father to be capable of protecting him from anything. It didn’t matter how big and bad the monsters got in scary movies, Harry was absolutely certain that Norman Osborn could be even more terrifying.… 

For that entire week that Norman was out of town, Eddie repeated the process every night when he put Harry to bed. He’d slip a little something into a glass of water and watch as the unsuspecting boy drank it all. And after Harry fell asleep, he would pull the boy’s clothes off.

A plan was definitely forming in his mind, and he decided one of the first steps was to practice stretching Harry’s hole if he ever wanted any chance to fuck it without creating a big bloody mess that would surely get him caught. He needed to be patient, kind and clever.


	14. Edward "Eddie" Brock, Jr.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Introducing Edward "Eddie" Brock, Jr.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
> **Trigger Warnings**
> 
> Characters: Eddie Brock, Dr. Edward Brock, Norman Osborn, and Harold Osborn. Additionally, mention of The Professor (Mendel Stromm, who has died by this point in the story).
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

####  **Introducing Edward “Eddie” Brock, Jr.**

Eddie Brock's parents were both scientists, born and raised in San Francisco, California. He grew up in a very conservative, Roman Catholic household. Eddie's mom died when he was six, after a long painful battle with cancer. When he was thirteen, Dr. Edward Brock moved with his son to New York after accepting a job offer at OsCorp. The Osborn Corporation was undergoing rapid expansion and poised to make  _significant_ breakthroughs in the field of biomedical research. The founder and CEO, Norman Osborn, was aggressive in recruiting talent, acquiring patents, and buying out business rivals and promising young upstart companies. Dr. Brock was eager for the opportunity to work with some of the most brilliant minds in his field and with ample funding.

Meanwhile, Eddie was upset at having to move and leave all his friends behind. Adjusting to life in New York was decidedly unpleasant, and the larger paycheck Dr Brock received also came with a much larger workload. Leaving less father-son time between them. It didn’t help at all that the new church his father insisted they attend was openly homophobic. Eddie was mostly left to his own devices, between schoolwork and sports, he developed an obsessive interest in pornography. Eddie felt very alone.

Eddie was almost fourteen and Harry was only eight when they met. Both of their fathers would often work late and take frequent trips for conferences and business deals. In a bid to court favor with his new boss, Dr. Brock volunteered Eddie to act as Harry’s tutor after overhearing a comment about Harry's struggles with schoolwork. 

Eddie was none too pleased about having his limited free time taken up with babysitting young Harold Osborn, but he found ways to amuse himself. Norman was home even less than Eddie’s father, which left Eddie plenty of time alone with Harry.

Eventually Eddie would come to think of his private time with Harry as a godsend. But not at first, _no,_ he’d initially been very annoyed at being tasked with babysitting the much younger kid. Tutoring and keeping the boy entertained felt like a waste of his time, and it was already hard enough trying to make new friends without having this clingy child vying for his attention.

But Edward Brock, Sr. impressed upon his son the importance of forming a strong working relationship with the Osborns. “One day, Harry could end up taking over his father’s company, and in the meantime you should consider this a golden opportunity to score points with Norman Osborn.” Eddie was resentful of this logic, thinking that he was really only going through all this trouble to win points for his father, and not himself.

It also annoyed him that it seemed as though Harry was given everything he wanted, all the best toys and games, and even a great family legacy would one day be dropped in his lap. Meanwhile, Eddie needed to work hard to earn his keep. His father was fairly well-to-do, not hard up for cash, but he still insisted that Eddie needed to learn the value of a dollar, hard work, and dedication before he could truly appreciate the good graces of the Lord. It wasn’t fair. _"_ _Life isn’t fair,"_ and he was so sick and tired of being sold that same damn line as if there was any wisdom in it.

“Hey, Eddie!” Harry’s smile was big and full of teeth, except for a few holes where the baby ones had recently fallen out. “I’m almost done with my homework. Look, I did it all by myself!” He sounded so proud of himself, as if that was some sort of achievement, but Eddie just smiled back indulgently.

"Yeah? Mind if I look over your answers real quick?”

“Sure! Yeah,” and Harry shuffled his papers around so he could stack together all of his completed work.

Eddie fiddled with a pen while he looked things over. _'Not bad,’_ he thought, _'except for a couple minor mistakes.’_ Eddie pointed these out to Harold and barely restrained a laugh when Harry dramatically raised the back of his hand to his forehead and fell over in pretend anguish. _“Ugh,_ ” the boy grumbled, “so close, I was so close.”

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” Eddie reassured him with the same stupid old hat adages that always pissed him off, “practice makes perfect.” But rather than being annoyed with this, Harry seemed emboldened by the promise of eventually getting better. There was still hope for him yet, that he could one day practice so much that maybe he would be good enough to earn his father’s praise.

“Okay,” Harry said, “maybe we should skip the games today. Do you want to help me with some more review exercises instead? Or maybe we could make a game out of those?”

####   **Eddie's Role as Babysitter**

Harry would always loudly object when Eddie proclaimed himself to be the babysitter. "I'm plenty old enough to look after myself, you know."

    "Sure, kid, keep telling yourself that."

    "Well, I am!"

Eddie excelled at sports. Harry wanted to be like Eddie and he tried _really hard_ but Eddie was much bigger and stronger and just better. _Eddie was also, obviously,_ older, _but Harry felt like that was beside the point._  

Harry really liked Eddie. The older boy was so kind and very affectionate, in a way that Harry's father never was, _not since The Professor died._ Eddie used to sit real close and hold Harry's hand. Eddie was particularly fond of ruffling his hair. Eddie would always find small excuses to make physical contact. Trading playful little punches, kicks under the table, a hand on his knee, and even cuddles on the couch when they were alone together.

Eddie was so nice to him, so attentive, he was always so patient with him and gave Harry an absolute abundance of praise whenever he got the right answers on his homework or a good grade on his tests. No matter how well he did, Harry was never smart enough to satisfy Father’s expectations. Harry asked too many stupid questions. Harry was always doing something wrong when Father was around.

Eddie told him it was okay to cry and that it was healthy to express his feelings. While Father always insisted that he had to keep his emotions under lock and key, to be freely expressed behind closed doors only. “You need to learn to mask your discomfort and show no weakness. Project confidence in all things or be trampled by incompetent fools with bloated egos.”

Harry told Eddie all of his secrets. His fears, insecurities, all the things he liked and hated. The way he felt about his father, he even admitted the way Norman scared him sometimes.

“He’s never hit me. Barely ever even raises his voice in anger around me, but I still get scared. And it hurts, the way he looks at me sometimes. I don’t know why. I still love him, _he’s my dad,_ but _sometimes_ I just think he hates me. Like I’m just a burden to him. I’ll never be good enough for him.”

“You’re a good son, Harry. I know you are, you _always_ try your best. You’re so beautiful and compassionate. _It’s Norman_ that doesn’t deserve a son like _you_ , not the other way around. You're too good for him, too pure and innocent.”

“You really think so?”

“Harry, _I know so._ Between he and I, who do you think knows you better, hm?”

“Oh. You know me better than anyone ever.”

“Exactly, see? So I know what I’m talking about when I say that you’re worth more than your old man will ever give you credit for. Trust me.” 

Harry’s smile was big and brilliant as he reached his arms up to give Eddie a big hug. “Thanks, Eddie, you always know exactly what to say to make me feel better.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for.”

...

 

It had been entirely too easy to assume that the subsequent interest Eddie took in young Harold Osborn was motivated by Eddie's future career aspirations or a product of his father's encouragements to curry favor with the OsCorp founder and CEO, Norman Osborn, Harry's father.


	15. Kitty Cat Cosplay / First Fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings** for things getting gross and creepy. 
> 
> Characters: Eddie, Harry
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

#### Eddie began suggesting roleplay.

“You like playing pretend, don't you, Fairy?”

He bought Harry some cute fuzzy fingerless gloves with a cat paw design on the palms, a headband with cat ears, some knee high stockings with cute matching panties designed to expose his ass for ease of access, and a cat tail buttplug to top it off. The last item confused Harry. “I don’t understand,” he said. Looking it over, he wondered aloud, “how is it supposed to attach to my pants?”

“You don’t wear pants with it silly,” and Eddie pointed to the funny looking bulbous end, “this part goes in your butt.” 

Harry’s eyes got really big and his mouth fell open while he continued to stare at the toy. _“In? IN? But -”_

“Yes, exactly,” Eddie cut him off with a chuckle. “Gosh, you look so scandalized. Harry, have you never tried putting anything in your butt before?”

Harold opened and closed his mouth a couple times, his brain was struggling to process the strangeness of this conversation. “Of course not!” he finally blurted out. “That - that’s where poop comes from, you’re not supposed to put things _in_ there!”

“Do you like pooping?”

“What do you mean, do I like pooping? What’s to like about pooping?” Harry asked like it was the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard.

“I mean, doesn’t it feel good?” 

Harold raised a brow and wondered why he suddenly felt like the reasonable adult in this conversation. _“Well,_ it beats being constipated, I guess.” He rolled his eyes. _‘What the hell is Eddie getting at? Does he really think I’ll enjoy having this_ thing _shoved up my ass?’_  

#### Next Scene

“You can’t tell Norman about this. You can't tell anyone. If your Dad or if my Dad finds out, we won’t be able to see each other anymore. They’ll think something’s wrong with us. That we’re sick, full of sin. They think we’ll go to hell for being fags and they’ll either try to _fix_ us or they’ll give up and disown us for this. Harry, you can’t tell anyone.” 

“I won’t. I promise, I’ll never tell.” Harry knew his father wasn’t religious like Eddie’s family was, but Norman would find some other reason to hate Harry for this, just as with everything else Harry did.

“You’re a good boy, Harry. I know you are, you always try your best. You’re so beautiful and compassionate. It’s Norman that doesn’t deserve a son like you, not the other way around. You're too good for him, _too pure_ and innocent.”

“You really think so?”

“I _know_ so. Come here, _closer._ I want to show you something.”

“What?”

“You’re cool enough to hangout with the big kids, aren’t you?”

“Obviously!”

“So don't you think it’s time we try playing some more mature games together?”

“Like what?” Harry was confused, _'what games do the big kids play?’_ “Grand Theft Auto?”

“No. We don’t need a game console. We’re already naturally equipped with joysticks.”

“Penises!” Harry responded automatically. Like most boys, he had a special fondness for dick jokes. But when his brain caught up with the context that this particular reference was used in, his face heated with embarrassment. “Err. Um, that _is_ what you meant, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie laughed, “We just need a little more privacy, so you and I can play with our penises. I can teach you some advanced techniques. It’ll be fun and educational.”

 _“Um,"_  he swore they'd had this conversation at least once before. Eddie got upset whenever Harry refused to play his games. "I dunno, isn’t that - I mean, aren’t we _both_ still a little young for that? I thought only adults were allowed to, um, play with their privates - together, I mean, aren't there laws against children getting… involved?”

“As long as we both have fun, it’s a victimless crime. Besides, you’re not going to tell anyone, I'm not going to tell anyone, so there’s really no risk of getting caught. Why, are you scared?” Harry fidgeted, he wanted to say no, but that would be a lie and he didn't want to lie to Eddie. “It’s okay to be nervous, Harry, and that can feel a lot like fear. But I won’t hurt you. I’d never try to hurt you, Harry.”

He nodded, “yeah, I’m nervous. I’ve never… um,”

“Don’t worry! I said I’d help you, didn’t I? The first time is always a little uncomfortable, but once you relax, it’ll be the best fun you’ll ever have!”

Eddie looked so excited for this game. Harry really didn't want to disappoint his friend. Eddie was probably getting bored hanging out with the younger kid. Harry didn't exactly have many other friends he that he could rely on when he got lonely, and no one else understood him as well as Eddie. 

“Okay,” Harry eventually agreed. Because Eddie was his best friend, and he didn’t want to lose that. Eddie smiled so big and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, leading him to the bedroom.

“You won't regret this,” Eddie promised him, but as Eddie closed the door and the bed loomed in front of them, Harry felt like he already did.

“You promise you’ll be gentle, right? 

####  **Harry’s First Fuck**

“Relax, baby,” Eddie rubbed his shoulders. “We’ll go slow, I promise. Hop on the bed. We can start with kissing. You like kissing, don’t you, Harry?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry sounded very unsure of himself, he was shifting his weight from foot to foot and looking very much like he wanted to turn and bolt outa the room.

Eddie pouted, “Listen, Harry. If you’re not comfortable with this…” he gave an exaggerated sigh, “I’ll just play with myself.” Eddie did absolutely nothing to hide his disappointment. “It’s just that, we play _your_ games all the time. I thought you’d want to try one of mine, but if you don’t think you can handle it… it’s fine, really, I know there’s plenty of other boys who would be very eager to play with me. I just thought what we had was special, you know? So I wanted to play my special game _with you.”_

“Special? You think I’m special?”

“You’re my little fairy princess, Harry, of course you’re special. _I love you_ and I want to show you what that means to me. It's a very special kind of affection, that’s all, there’s nothing wrong or indecent about it - no matter what other people say. _It’s about love,_ do you know what love really feels like, Harry? Have you ever really loved someone?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, I know I love my dad. That goes without saying, he’s family. And you’re like family too.”

“Do you love me? Do you trust me?”

“I - um,” Harry didn’t know what to say. He _liked Eddie_ a lot, but that feeling paled in comparison to the affection Harry felt for his father. “Maybe a little, I guess? I don’t know, does love work like that? Does it maybe build over time or accumulate and grow?”

“It… can be like that, yeah, sure,” Eddie said. “But _bonding exercises_ are what really help it along. That feeling you have for your father, it’s a good thing, right? It makes you happy when you’re able to express your love for him, right?” 

Harry had to think about that. How does he express his love for Daddy? He draws him pictures, he gives him Father’s Day cards and when he’s lucky he gets hugs. When he was really little he frequently used grab his father’s pant leg or try to hold his hand. 

He could remember at least a few times when Norman had picked him up, like after he’d scraped his knee really bad and couldn’t walk. Norman had run his hands through his son’s hair to calm him, even rubbed his back, and it had worked. Harry remembered quieting his sobs because he had been so intently focused on how good it felt to be touched like that. 

Norman rarely reciprocated, but Harry would always acknowledge his father when he came home and he’d say “bye” or “I'll see you later” or something whenever Norman went away. Because Norman’s presence was so important, it needed to be properly observed and appreciated. And when Norman would call to check in while he was on business trips, Harry would always tell him, “I miss you." Or "Love you, Daddy.” 

Norman… didn’t _exactly_ reciprocate all of these interactions. _No,_ but Harry liked to think that his father was just using a secret code to send the same messages back, because he had a reputation to maintain. So when Norman would say, “I’ll be back later,” it wasn’t just a vague description of his itinerary. No, it really meant “I’m excited at the prospect of coming home to you.” And when he reminded Harry to behave it really meant, “I love you, son, stay safe.”

“Yeah, it feels good to love and be loved. It always makes me happy to see him and to let him know I care. And I think he probably feels the same, even if he doesn't say it.”

“I just want to express how much I love and care for you, Harry. That’s what sex really is. Let me show you how good it feels when it’s less ambiguous.”

Eddie helped him un-dress. _Actually, physically_ provided an assist by tugging the shirt over Harry’s head, unbuttoning his pants for him and sliding them down. He even played with the waistband of Harry’s underwear, dipping his fingers inside the crack of the boy’s ass and then scooping inside the front to cup his little cock and balls. Harold squealed and tried to flinch away.

“Calm down. Big boys play these games all the time, Harry. There’s no reason to be embarrassed.”

“I - I haven’t needed any help getting dressed since I was five. And that’s only because Father said I couldn’t match the colors right! I - I don’t need help taking my clothes off, Eddie. It’s humiliating.”

“No, it’s not.”

Harry was red-faced with both shame and anger, he opened his mouth and looked ready to scream against having his feelings contradicted.

“Well, at least, it’s _not supposed to be._ Grownups actually really enjoy taking each other's clothes off. It’s part of what we call foreplay. It’s supposed to be fun!” 

Harry was unconvinced, but he tried to relax as Eddie knelt down in front of him. When Eddie started to tug at his briefs, bringing them down far enough that his penis poked out, Harold lost his cool and squirmed away. He hurriedly tugged his whitey tighties back into place. “I’m not ready yet,” he explained. “Do we absolutely have to be naked to play this game?” He cringed when he saw the older boy’s look of disappointment.

“Technically, _no,_ but it’s more difficult and a lot less satisfying.”

“Well, okay, _fine,_ but can we do something else first? It feels too weird, Eddie.” Brock thought about this for a few moments before he finally agreed.

“Alright, keep your panties on, but the rest stays off. And if you don’t mind, _I’m_ not nearly as shy, so I would prefer to play in the nude. You cool with that?”

“Um, okay,” Harry averted his gaze. _Admittedly, Harry was a little curious,_ but it still didn’t feel right to watch the other boy take his pants off. With the way his gaze had fixed itself on the wall, he was surprised when Eddie touched his shoulder. “Wha- what?” He looked at the still fully-clothed young man in confusion.

“Foreplay, remember? Don’t you want to return the favor and help me take my clothes off? I promise, _I_ won’t get embarrassed.”

“Oh, um, okay.” Harry agreed, then scrunched his brows together in concentration. “But I can’t reach high enough to take your shirt off.” He seemed to be thinking very hard about this dilemma. Eddie ruffled his hair and laughed.

“I’ll take care of that,” and in one swift motion Edward had removed his shirt and dropped it on the floor. He reached down and took Harry’s wrists, guiding his small hands to rest on the tent in the front of Eddie’s pants. His hips thrust forward a little, and Harry’s mouth fell open in surprise when he felt the bulge twitch and grow against his open palms. “Don’t be shy now, Harry. It’s not going to bite you,” Eddie teased. 

Harry swallowed his nervousness. His fingers tingling as he undid the button of Eddie’s jeans. He looked up into his friend’s eyes as he found the zipper and hesitated to pull it down. Eddie’s breathing had gotten noticeably heavier, his eyes seemed darker than usual, and Harry felt butterflies in his tummy. _'It’s just a zipper, you undo your own damn pants all the time. This isn’t a big deal,’_ Harry tried to focus, _'It only feels weird because it’s a new experience for me to be undressing someone else. Trust Eddie. If he says it’s okay, then it’s OK.’_  

Harry’s eyes widened as he tugged Eddie’s pants down and the large boy’s cock seemed even bigger only constrained against his plaid boxers. It was warm and Harry swore he felt the organ throb when his hands brushed over it. There was a wet spot where the tip of Eddie’s penis pressed against the fabric.

“Kneel down, get a closer look,” Eddie suggested. Harry’s head snapped up and he blushed when he realized that he'd been caught staring at the other boy’s crotch.

“I - no, I shouldn’t,” Harry said.

“It’s alright, Harry, I know you want to. Mine is bigger than yours, isn’t it?”

Harry chewed his bottom lip as he nodded and his eyes kept flicking down of their own accord. He reached up and scratched under his chin in what was meant to be a discrete way of forcing his head back up while he tried to focus his eyes up higher. Which didn’t help at all when noticed the way Brock was flexing his muscular arms, squaring his shoulders and standing tall in a way that emphasized how athletic his figure was. _'Damn,’_ Harry thought when he felt the rush of blood to his groin. 

#### Next Scene

 _"Please, Eddie, stop!_ It hurts, it hurts so bad, _please, please -_ Ah!" The large boy shifted, pressing more weight down, trying to stop Harry's pained struggles.  
  
"Stop squirming so much and relax, it'll feel better soon, I promise. Just stay still so you can adjust!"  
  
"No! _Nonono, I want my Daddy!"_ Harry screamed. Norman would put a stop to this if he were here. Norman would protect him. But he wasn't here and he wouldn't be back for another three days.  
  
_"Shhhh!"_ Eddie put a hand over Harry's mouth to stifle his cries. "It's okay, Harry. Just close your eyes and you can play pretend, okay? _I'll be your Daddy tonight._ And Daddy loves you. Be a good boy for Daddy and he'll take care of you. I promise."  
  
“Daddy, please, stop,” Harry begged when Eddie took his hand off of the boy’s mouth. “You're hurting me.” All of this crying was _so_ _frustrating._ Eddie was losing his patience, but he didn’t want to get too forceful and _completely_ destroy all the trust he’d worked so hard to build.

 _“Please, take it out. Please, please,”_ Harry didn’t know what else to say, and each iteration was getting more frantic and desperate. He was gasping, the cries were _thankfully_ relatively quiet, because he couldn't seem to gather enough air to raise his voice. But if this kept up, Harry might pass out. Brock was biting his lip, straining to resist the urge to start thrusting while he considered his options and the ramifications they would have on his budding relationship with young Harold Osborn.

“Okay, okay!” Eddie finally gave in. “I’ll take it out. Just be quiet and hold still.” Harry’s gaping mouth immediately snapped shut and he gave a grateful nod while fat tears kept leaking from his wide, terrified eyes. The way the moisture caught in the boy’s long lashes momentarily distracted Eddie, who delayed fulfilling his promise by stroking Harry's wet cheek. “Just hold still,” he repeated as he slowly began to ease his dick out of the kid’s asshole. Harry was trembling with the effort not to thrash and try to drag himself out from under Eddie. He was so close to being free, with just the tip still inside of him.

Just as Harry was nearing relief, Eddie paused. _‘Fuck it,’_ Eddie thought. _'The damage has already been done.’_ While one hand reached down to keep the tip in place and slowly guide its reinsertion, Eddie shifted his other arm to raise the kid’s legs up and hold them against his chest. Brock was angling to slide himself in balls deep, dragging the boy’s bottom up higher while Eddie’s own stance spread even wider to further box the child in and prevent his escaping.

“Don’t move,” he told Harry, “I _\- ah_ \- _fuck._ I think I - _I’m stuck.”_ The excuse was so lame that Eddie had to duck his head to keep from laughing as he _pushed back in._ Underneath him, Harry went into a panic.

 _“What?_ What do you mean? _Stuck?_ How - _ahAH!”_ Harry’s wails were filled with confusion and betrayal. Through the haze of pain, Harold thought, _'This is wrong. It can’t be true, but why would he lie to me?’_ Certainly Brock would’ve mentioned if _things getting stuck_ was a possibility _before_ putting his dick in. Angrily, Harry tried to claw at whatever part of the bigger boy that he could reach, pressing his nails into Eddie’s arm and trying to take a swipe at his face. _“No, no, take it out. Eddie! You have to take it out!”_  

Once Brock was certain he wouldn’t accidentally slip out, Eddie gathered both of Harry’s wrists in one hand and forced them over the boy's head. _“Fuck,_ I told you to stay still. _Dammit,_ Harry. You’re too tight. Your greedy little asshole just won’t let me go.”  

Fully impaled on the older boy’s cock, Harry was furious with himself, angry with his body for betraying him, and upset that he’d been stupid enough to ever agree to play Eddie’s evil game in the first place. _'This isn’t going to stop,’_ Harry realized during a moment of clarity. _'Fighting, shouting, crying, nothing I do even matters. I’m powerless to stop this.’_

Edward had leaned down and was kissing his face. Harry’s legs were going numb, he barely even felt the strain from the way they were bent over Eddie’s shoulders. The _pressure_ and the _burning_ in his ass and shooting up his back held all of his attention. _'So what do I do?’_ Harry wondered, desperately searching for an answer, _'Am I supposed to just lie back and take this? Pray that it ends quickly? Please,_ God, _Daddy, just make it stop.’_

 _“Harry,”_ Eddie was panting from above him. “Open your eyes, look at me.” Harold hadn’t even realized that he'd closed them, but he definitely didn’t want to see Eddie right now. The darkness felt much safer. _“Look at me,”_ Eddie demanded with more force this time and punctuated the command with a hard thrust and by squeezing the boy’s trapped wrists with enough force that the bones rubbed together painfully.

For a brief moment Harry squeezed his eyes closed tighter before he had to actually focus on prying them open for fear of what would happen if he refused. He was welcomed with the sight of a sweaty, smiling, _ugly '_ O’ face as Eddie’s hips jerked wildly and Harry felt a strange fluid filling and leaking from his abused hole. _'That’s cum, semen, ejaculate,’_ his mind ever so helpfully supplied. _'So does that mean it’s finally over?’_ he wondered, too tired and frightened to dare allow himself to feel hopeful.


	16. Ticklish Princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
> **Trigger Warnings** Eddie being gross. Sexual assault of a child by a teenager.
> 
> Characters: Eddie and Harry.
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

#### Ticklish

Eddie was especially fond of kissing his baby girl's belly and tickling her sides.  
  
Harry hated being tickled.  He'd kick, cry, beg, and scream for the torment to end. The reflex to giggle was the worst part, because Eddie insisted that the laughter meant that he had enjoyed it. 

_“Eddie, please! Stop! Lemme - Ah! Lemme go, lemme -_ ow,” Harry glared as he backed away from the big blonde jock. “That was really mean,” he pouted.

“You liked it,” Eddie scoffed.

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

_“No!_ No, I did not. Don't do that. Please, Eddie.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Did it hurt?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded and his bottom lip quivered.

“Did you want Daddy to kiss it better?” 

Harry shook his head no, “I don't want to be touched right now, Brock. You hurt me!”

“Aw, come on!” Eddie complained. “It’s not that bad. Come over here,” he demanded, but Harry scrambled to his feet and moved away as Eddie reached for him.

“No!”

“Harry,” there was a warning tone in his voice now.

Harold ran. Eddie gave chase.

Eddie eventually cornered Harry in a secluded section of the yard. He caught the corner of the boy’s shirt and yanked hard, Harry tripped and Eddie tackled him to the ground. 

Harry was too out of breath to scream and it didn’t help at all when the much larger boy sat on his chest.

“Can’t - breath - _Eddie,”_ the small boy wheezed. The blonde jock had a big smile on his face, but he eased up just a bit to take the weight off Harold’s ribs. After Harry took in a few deep breaths, he weakly slapped at Eddie’s thighs where they were still straddling Harold’s torso. “Get off!”

“Oh, _I intend to,_ just give me a minute,” there was something strange in his voice that didn't match Eddie’s usual playful tone. Brock was rocking his hips on top of him. There was something hard and warm in Eddie’s pocket and it was pressing against Harold in a way that verged on being painful. Harry didn’t know what to make of this, but he was _really_ uncomfortable.

“Come on, Eddie! Lemme up!” He demanded.

“Hold still,” Eddie gasped.

_“No,_ Eddie, _it hurts,”_ Harry’s eyes filled with tears.

“Shit,” Eddie started to back off but stopped when he was instead straddling Harry’s thighs, “Lemme see,” Eddie said as he was tugging at the bottom of Harry’s shirt, “show me where it hurts.” Brock was pushing the fabric up and out of the way, he seemed intent on taking the whole garment off. Harold flinched but he allowed it anyway. Lying half naked under his tutor, Harry began pointing to his injuries, mostly just the places where Eddie had pressed down on him too hard.

Eddie gave quick little kisses to each spot Harry pointed to. It tickled a little bit but the contact was there and gone so fast that it never built up to the painful intensity from earlier. He felt very warm despite his bare chest and embarrassed that this strange position wasn't as uncomfortable as before. It was almost nice, pleasant, he liked having Eddie’s full attention when he was being gentle like this.

“What about here?” Eddie asked. The older boy was pointing to Harry’s crotch.

Harold quickly shook his head and stuttered, “n-n-no, that - _ah!”_ Eddie’s hand cupped the front of Harry’s pants and was rewarded with a loud yelp, “It doesn't hurt, please don’t touch it,” Harry immediately began to squirm away, but Eddie’s weight had settled on his thighs and pinned him in place.

“Are you sure?” Eddie asked, “It feels swollen. Maybe you should take your pants off and let me examine it.”

_It didn’t hurt._ Not exactly. It just felt hot and big and _okay, maybe it was a little swollen._ But Eddie’s touch seemed to be making it worse.

“No, Eddie, it’ll be fine. It’s just - err, excited, that’s all.” Harry was too embarrassed to admit that he had gotten an erection from all those featherlight kisses. “Leave it alone, and - and I think it’ll calm down just fine on its own,” Harry reassured him.

“But where's the fun in that?” Eddie pouted. “Ya know, grown-ups have much more fun ways of handling these.” His unhelpful suggestions were becoming more forceful and it made Harry mad.

“But we’re not grown-ups,” Harry crossed his arms over his exposed chest, feeling cold now that the warm affection was gone from Eddie’s voice. “And I don’t want to play anymore of your grown-up games.” Eddie’s eyes seemed to darken considerably, his muscles coiled as if getting ready to pounce, and it made Harry fearful from his position lying beneath the moody teenager. “Eddie, please, just let me up. I want to put my shirt back on and go inside.”

Eddie’s eyes cleared and his face softened a little, but his posture hadn’t otherwise changed. “But we were having fun, weren’t we?”

“No,” Harry growled, “this isn’t fun anymore. Get off.” Wiggling hadn't gotten him anywhere, so he tried to roll onto his stomach, only managing to twist halfway while he reached forward to claw at the ground in an effort to drag himself out from under Brock.  “Ow, Eddie let me -” the larger kid grabbed Harry by the shoulder and yanked him back around. Harry was shoved flat on his back again and pinned there this time by Eddie’s elbows on his shoulders while his tutor leered down at him.

“You’re not going anywhere, princess,” Brock punctuated the statement by kissing Harold’s cheek. _“Mmm,”_ he moaned right beside Harry’s ear while he rolled his hips and brought their groins together. 

Harry very suddenly understood the heat and the hardness he’d felt in Eddie’s pants earlier. _If he didn’t find a way out soon, he was so fucked._

_“Eddie, please, not here. Not now.”_

“Aw, come on, Harry. All I ever hear from you is _no, no, no,”_ Eddie thrust to emphasize each _no_ and was rewarded with a gasping, writhing Harry. “I’m not sure you even know what that word means. Your doting father buys you everything, regardless of whether you deserve it. When has anyone ever told you _no_ before? Do you have any idea how frustrating this is? How much it hurts when you tease me?”  

“I’m sorry,” Harry wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to be apologizing for, but that seemed to be what Eddie was searching for. “I’m sorry, _I -_ I didn’t mean to.”

_“Fuck. No,_ of course, I know you don’t do it on purpose. My little fairy princess would never intentionally cause me so much physical discomfort, would you?”

“No, I wouldn't. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,”

Eddie reached down and unbuttoned his pants. He tugged the zipper down, but he stopped himself just shy of pulling them down. Instead, he reached for one of Harry’s little hands. He snatched it by the wrist and pulled it down by the front of his jeans.

“But now you understand at least a little of what I need to go through everyday.” Harry reluctantly allowed his hand to be guided into his friend’s pants and underwear, where it was met by hot, soft, wet, sensitive flesh. His eyes were wide and his whole body twitched with fear as he watched the color in Eddie’s eyes overtaken by his dilated pupils. _“This_ is all because of you, Fairy.” Harry swallowed hard while his palm was pressed harder against Eddie’s engorged dick.

“I’m sorry,” Harry’s voice cracked.

“I don’t want you to be sorry, Harry. I want you to make it all better. This is how the world works. You’re going to have to face the consequences of your actions, whether the harm you caused was intentional or not. You have _a responsibility_ to take care of this."


	17. Princess/Villain Roleplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
> **Trigger Warnings** for the sexual abuse and manipulation of a child. Also, watersports, verbal and physical violence. Slurs.
> 
> Characters: Eddie and Harry.
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

####  Roleplay

Eddie made Harry feel like a princess. He spoiled and pampered him. Let him play with pretty things, dress however he wanted, experiment with makeup, and Harold thought that all this meant Eddie understood him in a way that no one else seemed to.  
  
Harry was willing to put up with a lot of strange behavior because Eddie made him feel valid, noticed and appreciated for who he really was inside - and not for the person that he was supposed to be. Harry didn’t have to try so hard to be a genius like his father - Eddie liked Harry for who he was now. A pretty little fairy princess who liked to twirl and dance and play pretend.

Eddie was a very handsome Prince Charming.  

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,”

“Come on, Cinderella, we need to get a move on before the clock strikes midnight!”

“Into the bath, Little Mermaid,”

#### Next Scene

After all the homework was done and all the hired help had left the house for the day, Eddie asked, "What game should we play today, Fairy?" 

_"Hmmmmm,"_ Harry pretended to think about it. His latest obsession was with playing princess. "I think, _may~be_ we should try, _um,_ Scrabble?" Harry laughed. He couldn't even say it with a straight face. Not that there was anything _wrong_ with Scrabble, but - when the two of them were alone - Eddie's preference was _always_ to play pretend together. Harry was absolutely delighted by the opportunity to be someone else for a while and to explore a whole new narrative - _even if_ the plots they played with were oftentimes a little thin and the characters one dimensional. Besides, they were both still very young, they had plenty of time to work on their craft, and that's what practice is for! 

Eddie had already reached over to play with young Osborn's hair, twisting his fingers in it so he could give him a slight tug to communicate a combination of annoyance and amusement. _"I think_ we can do better than board games," he commented. "Hm, _how about ..._ instead of me being the handsome prince rescuing you, how about I play _the villain_ this time?"

Harry frowned. The usual story lately was to have Harold rescued by Prince Charming and swept back to the castle. He'd be pampered and helped into bed while pretending to be faint and overwhelmed with gratitude. Prince Eddie would steal a kiss and talk about how it was _only logical_ that the Savior should be offered a prize, a token of gratitude, and then he'd make a brief effort to court his princess - saying sweet nothing's or getting impatient and more blatantly suggesting that the formerly distressed damsel needed to express her appreciation with sexual favors.

"Just to mix it up, keep things _interesting,"_ Eddie was saying, but Harry wasn't sure he liked where this was heading. But _then again,_ it had taken him a while to warm up to the other game and now he _mostly_ enjoyed it. Maybe this wouldn't be _so bad..._

#### Oh, no, it gets bad.

Eddie handed him a warm cup of piss and told Harry to drink it. 

**_"No!"_ ** Harry, quite understandably, was absolutely disgusted and horrified by this suggestion.

_"Come on,_ if you do it fast you'll barely even taste it."

"It's gross and unsanitary," Harry complained, "and it's weird, why would your character _even want_ to make the princess drink his pee?"

Eddie sighed loudly, obviously annoyed with having to explain himself. _"Because_ it's supposed to be degrading. The princess is meant to be humiliated by this, and mine gets a thrill of ownership and power. _Now drink it or wear it, bitch."_

"What's that even supposed to - _hey!"_ Eddie had smacked the cup so that the contents splashed into Harry's face. Some of it had gotten in his open mouth, and Harry immediately started spitting and whining, _"ew,_ what the fuck, Eddie?!" 

Brock grabbed Harry by the back of the neck and forced him face first into the floor. "Look at the mess you made, Princess." 

Harry swallowed his complaints with a whimper and weakly struggled against the much larger boy's hands. He wanted to get up, to stop this game and go hide in a closet until Daddy got home.

"Clean it up, _with your tongue._ Go on, lap it up." Eddie was scolding him, rubbing his nose in the piss as if Harry had been the one responsible for this. "So long as you keep acting like a  _little bitch,_ you're going to be treated like one." 

_"N-n-n_ -no," Harry stuttered protest. His eyes were quickly overflowing with tears and he didn't know what else to do. He closed his mouth and kept it clenched shut in defiance. He closed his eyes and welcomed the blackness, because it made it easier to disassociate, to pretend that this was a bad dream, _that it wasn't real._ His lungs started to burn and he felt dizzy from lack of oxygen and in that moment he realized that he'd been holding his breath. Where his face wasn't an angry red, there were hints of purple and blue.

Eddie eventually released him, cussing at him for being such a  _goddamn pussy._ "You've already drank my cum before, _stupid,_ do you really think that piss is any dirtier?" 


	18. Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Norman and Harry (age 11). Cuddling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings** for mentions Eddie's abuse of Harry and the highly disturbing ideas he put in Harry's head. Nudity. Incestuous thoughts. Reference to Norman masturbating and arguing with his hallucination. 
> 
> Characters: Norman and Harry.
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

#### Middle of the night,

Norman woke up when he heard his bedroom door close. The room was dark, when he opened his eyes he half expected the shadows to attack him. There was soft sounds of someone crossing the room, Norman's hand automatically reached for the secret knife sheathed between the top of the mattress and the headboard. He stopped when he heard a tentative whisper, _"Dad?"_

Eleven year old Harry paused halfway between the door and his father's bed. He was anxiously wringing his hands and shivering with fear. 

Norman grumbled and rubbed at his face before checking the time. Too damn early for this nonsense, he'd only gone to bed two hours ago, barely managed to fall asleep after approximately 76 minutes of arguing with The Goblin while he shame-masturbated to memories of his deceased lover.

Harry took that sound as encouragement to start talking, "I can't sleep, Dad. _I -"_

"Wanted to make sure _no one else_ would get any rest?" 

Harry closed his mouth, forgetting whatever he was going to say exactly. He was too upset to admit that he couldn't fall asleep because he kept seeing Eddie's face every time he closed his eyes - that he _swore_ he kept feeling the older boy's hands on him, touching him in places that _did_ _n't feel right_ and in ways that hurt him. He was afraid that he'd never feel clean again. Too scared to admit that he didn't feel safe in his own bed.

So he just stood there and cried. 

Norman sighed, resigning himself to the fact that parenthood was a pain in the ass. "Have you been watching scary movies again?" He was faintly able to detect movement and surmised that Harry was probably nodding. "Fine," he shuffled the pillows and blankets around to accommodate his new bedmate. "Come on," he decided that it would take far less effort to just give in and allow Harry to share the bed with him than it would to kick him out and see him properly tucked back into his own bed. "But you really shouldn't be making a habit of this, Harry. You're old enough now that you should be fine sleeping on your own."

"I'm sorry," Harry said as he crawled into the bed.

Norman belated realized that he was naked beneath the sheets. He really didn't want to get up and fetch underpants right now, but this was poised to be awkward enough without factoring in nudity. Of course, by the time these thoughts occurred to him it was already too late. Harry was trying to snuggle in as close as he could get and Norman had to flinch away before Harry had a chance to accidentally brush against his bare nether region.

Unfortunately, Norman was too slow and Harry kept pushing forward in an effort to curl up along his side. When he tried to squirm away, Harry reached out to try and hold him still. "Don't go!"

Norman pushed Harold's hands away as he got up and stepped away from the bed. 

"I'll be right back," he grumbled, carefully starting to make his way around the room without turning any lights on. "I just... need to put some clothes on."  

Harry's eyes were wide as saucers when he sat up and saw a shadowy glimpse of what was hanging between his father's thighs. Norman wasn't looking at Harry, couldn't possibly see well enough in the dark to notice how intently his son was watching him tiredly make his way over to the dresser. Harry didn't have the presence of mind to resist the urge to stare at his father's cock, balls or his ass when Daddy had turned away from him.  

Daddy's dick had been soft and it still looked bigger than Eddie's! Harold's butt ached just thinking about it - how big it was, how much it would - _um._ No. _No,_  Harry didn't really have any reason to be thinking about _that_. He was safe with Daddy. Norman would _never_  do anything to hurt Harry. _Except_ forwhen he sometimes says mean things or holds his hand a little too tight. _But_ Daddy would _never_ force his dick inside Harry, that was unthinkable. 

_So why couldn't Harry stop thinking about it?_

_It -_ it's not as if Harry _wanted_ him to do it. The twisting, turning feeling in his gut was definitely _not_ disappointment. He didn't want Daddy to touch his insides. He didn't want his father between his thighs, holding him open and pushing down on all his most sensitive places. But  _if he did,_ surely then Daddy would be more gentle than Eddie. Daddy would kiss away all the pain and hurt, he'd hold him tight and he'd actually mean it if he ever apologized for the discomfort it caused. But even if having sex with Daddy was better and safer than the sex he had with Eddie, Harry remembered that it would be wrong of him to suggest it. _Which was so frustrating._ It's not that Harry _wanted_ to have sex with his father. No, it's not _that_.

Harry just wanted his Daddy to love him as much as _he_ loved _Daddy._ But Eddie insisted that the only reason _anyone_ would ever love _him_  is if he was willing to do sex things for them. And _maybe -_ maybe Harry thought _that would be okay._ If that's what it took to earn Daddy's love, then it would be worth it. He would do anything to make his father happy. 

After several long moments of grumbling while Norman pulled on some black boxer briefs, he shuffled back over and collapsed onto the bed. Norman barely had a chance to settle himself in before Harry had thrown his arms around him, twined a lithe leg between Norman's muscular thighs and tucked his head under Daddy's chin. Harry squeezed until he heard his father groan, "Ease off. Harry, are you a child or a _parasite?_ Leave me a little room to breath." 

"Sorry," Harry mumbled into Daddy's shoulder. 

Harold's body was soft and warm and entwined with his father's in a way that felt disturbingly intimate to the man who had refused to share his bed with any new lovers since Mendel's death, over three years ago. He was glad that he'd so recently relieved at least some of the sexual tension he'd shored up, because otherwise his body might've reacted even more strongly to the close physical contact.

Each of Harry's breaths sent a little puff of air along Norman's collar. One of Harry's hands unintentionally landed near one of his father's bare nipples and Norman immediately regretted his tired decision to skip pulling a shirt or proper pants on.  

"I love you, Daddy," Harry mumbled. He contently squeezed each limb around Norman a little bit tighter before relaxing. The way those little muscle contractions created just a little movement was so pleasant that Harry repeated it a few more times, effectively rubbing himself against his grumpy near nude Daddy.

"Stop wiggling and go to sleep, Harry."

"I love you," Harry mumbled again, a little less coherently this time. 

He knew what Harry wanted to hear, but he just couldn't quite bring himself to say it. Those three little words, _'I love you,'_ always seemed to get stuck in his throat, so he sought to express his affection through actions instead. Norman pulled the sheets a little bit tighter and nuzzled the top of Harry's head. When the boy's hair tickled him, as it jutted out at funny angles, Norman reflexively reached up to smooth it down. Without sparing it a single thought, Norman found himself petting his son's hair and rubbing his back. But the positively  _indecent_ sounds Harry made in response surprised his father enough that he had to stop. 

 _"Mmm,"_ Harry hummed, his little thumb starting to caress Daddy's aereola and occassionally flicked over the nipple by accident. It was a mockery of the pattern Daddy had been drawing on Harry's back, the small boy hoping he could encourage Daddy to continue. Instead, this only succeeded in further agitating his grumpy father.

 _"Stop that."_ Norman grabbed the offending hand and pushed it back towards Harry, then he rolled onto his side to face away from his needy son. " _Go to sleep."_

Harold's forehead came to rest between Norman's shoulder blades and one of the boy's little arms curled around Norman's waist. Being the little spoon was already a novelty for Norman, but this was extra precious. In the quiet moments that followed, with his son resting behind him, the tightly coiled mess of nerves finally started to unwind and sort themselves. This felt right. Nothing had felt right in a very long time, but  _this_ felt right. 

Norman was blessed in this moment with the knowledge that he hadn't lost everything. Much as it hurt to carry on without Mendel, he still had this to hold onto. Or perhaps more accurate to say, he still had Harry holding on to him. And that was a reason to keep living. He had someone precious to protect, something worth fighting for. 

Of course, this position only lasted a couple minutes before Norman could no longer stand it. He gave his clingy kid a light shove to make room so he could roll back over and wrap Harry up in his arms and curled his body snug up against his little boy. _"I don't always spoon,"_ he murmered in Harry's ear through a gruff fake-sounding accent, "but when I do, I prefer _to be the big one."_

 _"Dad,"_ Harry's annoyance was overshadowed by sheer joy, and his little huff was quickly followed with happy giggles as he got settled into Daddy's warm embrace.

"Go to sleep, Harold." 

Harry forgot all about his anxious feelings from earlier, because _Eddie was wrong._  He didn't need to take his clothes off to earn Daddy's affection. _No,_ he just needed to be _cute and persistent,_ and eventually Daddy would give in to his feelings. Because the problem wasn't that Daddy _lacked_ feelings for Harry, it was just that Daddy tried to _hide_ them. Daddy was just in the habit of locking his emotions away, because it was necessary in his line of work.

 _'Never underestimate the power of a good poker face,'_ he remembered Daddy saying, and then having to explain the entire concept of poker, betting and bluffing. Because apparently he'd been referring to more than just the hit song by Lady Gaga. 

 If Harry started to wiggle and gyrate to the imagined beat of the pop song then that was both unfortunate and entirely accidental. 

"Swear to god, Harry, if you can't keep still then I'm going to have to start locking my door." 

 _"Nooo,"_ Harry whined. "I'll be good. Cuddle nice now."


	19. Osborn Family Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Harry wanted to tag along for one of his school friend's family vacations over the holidays. Norman doesn't completely understand why he's so opposed to the idea - he just has the gut reaction of not wanting Harry to go have fun with so-and-so's idealistic cookie cutter perfect family. And also because even while Norman may have planned on quietly ignoring Harry for most of the holiday, he would've been disturbed/saddened by Harry's absence. Because even if they're not usually speaking to each other, just having Harry around helps even Norman out, emotionally - especially since holidays tend to be the most brutal times for anyone with a mental illness.
> 
> So to compromise, Norman makes arrangements to take Harry to a private luxury cabin for just the two of them to celebrate Christmas and New Year's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings** for angst, masturbating in the shower.
> 
> Characters: Norman and Harry.
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

#### (Working Title)

 _"So..._ a couple of the guys from school are all planning to go on this awesome ski trip over the holidays. (So and So's) family rents out this place at some fancy resort (or something, somewhere, whatever would sound impressive), and they said they could defintely make room for me if I wanted to tag along and I _really_ want to go. I won't ask for anything else for the rest of the year. _Aside from..._ whatever it costs to cover all the gear and expenses for the trip, I promise. _Pretty, pretty please."_

"This trip is _when_ and for _how long?"_

"Just over the winter holidays. We'd leave the first day of break, but I'd definitely be back in time for when school starts up again." 

"Absolutely not." 

"But (so-and-so)'s Dad is letting him go. It's only for almost two weeks. You won't even miss me."

"I said, _'No.'_ Don't make me repeat myself again, Harold."

 _"But -"_ Harry shook slightly, fighting the urge to stomp his feet. "You at least have to tell me why not!"

"I don't owe you an explanation."

 _"Because you don't have one,_ other than just wanting me to suffer."

"I don't want you to suffer, Harry."

"Then you'll let me go."

_"No."_

Harry screwed his face up in frustration, and gave a big angry sniff. He was acting every bit the petulant, stupid, entitled brat that The Goblin kept saying he was. Norman turned his attention back to his book, pretending to ignore his disobedient little shit for a son.

"You're being unreasonable." 

Norman snapped his book closed. "Oh, _I'm_ being unreasonable? Says the one who wants to _disappear_ for _two weeks_ over the _holidays_." Norman clenched his fists around the cover of his book.

"Puh-lease," Harry's tone was just on the wrong side of bitter and spiteful, "We don't even celebrate them."

"What about Christmas? We exchange gifts. We share a nice, quiet dinner." Norman knew that sounded lame.

Harry rolled his eyes, _"No,_ your secretary stops by to drop off the presents he bought off my wish list. You're always, _always_ distracted and _perpetually_ disappointed, _bored_ or just generally disinterested in whatever totally thoughtful and interesting thing I picked out for you. And then we both end up in separate corners for the rest of the day, except for the twenty minutes it takes for you to barely even touch the ham dinner before you disappear again completely. Seriously, it's not like I'd be missing out on any quality time with you."

Everything Harry said was completely true and accurate, but Norman still couldn't stomach the thought of this big empty house. Of not having Harry home for the holidays, even if they barely even saw each other regardless.

#### Next Scene

{"Let him go, Normie. With any luck, he won't come back to bother us."}

{ _"I could make sure of it._ "}

{"He was a mistake."}

{ _"Let him go._ "} The Goblin's voice bounced and echoed from various points around the room, surrounding him. The Goblin was everywhere and no where at the same time. 

"Is that what you really want?" Norman chose his question carefully. "To spend the holidays with someone else's family?" Because maybe Harry did have a point. Maybe Harry would be better off that way. Maybe Norman couldn't be trusted. The holidays had always been the most difficult time of year for him to cope with his... curse.

 _"No,"_ Harry admitted. "No, _what I want_ is a real family, holiday traditions and all. I gotta know, what's so _goddamn_ special about it, _huh?_ How overblown is this Merry _Ho, Ho, Horseshit_ that Hallmark or whoever keeps marketing as the most _wonderful_ time of the year? What am I missing out on? I wanna know."

"And you think you're going to be able to figure all that out on some dusty old mountaintop with a family composed of strangers, people you hardly even know."

Harry crossed his arms and shrank back, lowering his gaze to the floor. Quietly, he said, "I figured it'd be better than spending the days holed up here with the stranger who's been wearing my dad's face." It was a dangerous thing to say aloud and Harry knew it.  

"What's that supposed to mean? Harry..."

"You haven't been the same since he died. And we haven't talked about it. Dad, you - sometimes when you think I'm not around or not paying any attention, I see things. I hear things. You talk to yourself. Stare off at nothing. Get upset for no reason. And then you just... shut down and you disappear. It's been almost two years. I know we can't ever get him back, but did I have to lose you too?"

 That -  _that did it. Dammit._

#### Next Scene

Today was the day, Norman and Harry were setting off on their Magical Winter Wonderland Holiday Adventure! It would be a full two weeks with just the two of them all cozy in a private little luxury cabin. They wouldn't be coming back to the estate until January 3rd, barring any work related emergencies of course, but Daddy had promised that it would take something truly catastrophic to drag him home early. 

When they'd finished packing their suitcases last night, Harry couldn't help but notice that Daddy had needed more luggage than was usual for the length of this trip. Now, as Harry watched Gabriel load all the suitcases into the SUV, he turned to Daddy with a sneaky smile. _"You know,"_ he nudged Daddy's arm with his elbow. "This couldn't have been any less subtle, even if you'd thought to shove 'em all in a big red sack lined with white fur."

Straight faced as ever and without missing a beat, Norman said, "I have no idea what you're talking about, son."

"So I suppose all those extra bags are just carrying long underwear and wool socks?"

#### Next Scene

Norman gathered Harry into his arms, petting the boy's hair with one hand and rubbing his back with the other while Harold got comfortably situated in Daddy's lap.  

Harry's extremities still ached from the earlier exposure to the snow storm outside, but that only made the warmth radiating from Daddy's body and the heat from the fire all that much more soothing and pleasurable.

The wind was still howling outside, the fire crackling, the tree decorations bright and sparkling. It was all so beautifully festive.  Harry had never held any delusions about flying reindeer, elven sweat shop labor or Santa Claus - albeit made for some amusing and magical cinematography. Harry understood that _this_ \- in the darkest, coldest, most brutal of months - was a celebration meant to rekindle love, restore hope and to bring family closer together. Or at least, this is what it had always meant to him. This was why Norman refused to let Harry go skiing with his friends. Even if Daddy was too proud to ever admit it, Harry knew that his old man needed this holiday even more than he did.  

Harry nestled his head against Daddy's chest, his eyes drooping closed. Safe, warm and content, Harry began nodding off. His breathing evened out, muscles relaxing, his small frame coming to rest entirely on his father.

"Harry," Norman spoke softly, not wanting to ruin the moment. "Fluffy Bunny."

 _"Mm?"_ Harry almost purred. He loved it when Daddy used his affectionate pet names for him. Each occasion was rare, few and far between ever since Mendel's death. But when Daddy used The Professor's old nickname for him, it was a bittersweet reminder of the good times. More sweet than bitter, he liked to think, but he would take it either way. 

"I think it's time for bed," Norman solemnly informed his son.  

 _"Nooo, nuh-uh,"_ Harry groaned and tried to bury himself deeper in the embrace. "Nope, 'm not tired," he protested. 

"You're half asleep," Norman rebuked him, sounding for once very obviously amused by his son's antics rather than simply annoyed. 

 _"Nnn,_ 'm not," Harry mumbled.

"Come on, Fluffy, on your feet. You need to brush your teeth before you fall asleep," Norman gently eased Harry off of his lap, but he barley managed to coax the boy to stand before Harry was leaning heavily on his father. 

"Aw, _pwe_ _ase, Daddy,"_ Harry whined while his arms snaked around Norman's waist to trap him in a hug. "Please, I'm _so_ cold. I don't want to go to bed alone. I want to stay here. With you. And - and cuddle some more. _Please."_

"We can cuddle more _after_ you get ready for bed," Norman promised. When Harry only clinged to him more tightly, he reached down to gently pry Harry's hands away. In his patented Stern Dad Voice, Norman reminded him, "Just because you're on vacation doesn't mean you get to slack off on your healthy habits. There are no cheat days for daily hygiene. Now, _hop to it."_ He tried to steer Harry away from him and gave him an encouraging little pat on his rump.  

As grumpily as a pretend bunny could, Harry bounced to the bathroom, but not before turning back around to give Daddy one more tight squeeze.

About five minutes later, as Harry was doing his final rinse, Norman trailed in behind him. Harold gave Daddy a big, sloppy grin through the mirror while he rubbed any lingering spittle or toothpaste off his chin. Norman walked up behind him and clapped a hand on each of his son's shoulders.

"Enjoying the trip so far?" Norman asked. 

"Yeah," Harry's smile didn't falter or waver for even a second. This whole day alone was worth all the emotional turmoil it had taken to guilt Daddy into making these plans. "Yeah," Harry covered each of Daddy's hands to give them a little squeeze while he searched the blank face in the mirror. "How about you?" Harry asked, failing to detect as much joy as he had hoped to find in Daddy's facial expressions. "Having fun?" 

"Not my usual definition of a good time," Norman admitted, _"but_ I'm glad we came." 

"It's good to get away. Try something new with just the two of us," Harry tried to encourage Daddy to elaborate a little more. Norman released his grip on Harold's shoulders so he could instead wrap his arms around him and drag him back into a full bear hug from behind. 

"I have missed spending more time with you," Norman spoke into Harry's ear as he lifted the squealing boy off his feet. "But there are some things I still prefer to do alone. _So,_ if you're done in here..." Norman carried the giggling kid to the door and dropped him out in the hall.  "I'd like some privacy." With that, Norman shut the door and Harry scampered off into the bedroom. 

#### Next Scene

Alone in the bathroom, after finishing the messiest business, Norman was retreiving the toothbrush from his bag when he stumbled upon the bottle of pills he'd hidden in with his toiletry set. It was his own mix of antipsychotics and sedatives, _just in case._ Norman had not wanted to risk letting the ugly green monster ruin this. As much as he was loathe to use his secret drug stash, he had decided that the awful fog-headedness would be preferable over the alternative of being constantly harassed and quick to anger. Thankfully, The Goblin remained blissfully silent, and he hadn't yet had to resort to those measures. 

#### Next Scene

Harry scurried into bed, diving under the blankets completely, and just poked his head out to grumble about how long Daddy was taking before ducking back down _. "Come on!_ Hurry, Daddy! It's _sooo_ cold!" 

Norman lifted the sheet and a cold gust of air snuck in to meet a whining, wiggly Harry, _"Ah!"_ Norman crawled in and quickly brought the blankets back down around them both. He barely had more than a second to settle himself in before Harold was on top of him. 

With a roll of his eyes, Big Daddy Osborn pulled the comforter down around them a little tighter and held Harry close. The boy's shivering was minimal except for one especially bouncy leg. Norman decided to trap the annoying limb between his thighs in an effort to hold it still. The fast twitches transformed into a slow, sensuous slide that touched all the wrong places. After a couple rocking motions, back and forth, a disturbing heat started settling low in Norman's tummy. Daddy cleared his throat.

"Stop wiggling and _go to sleep."_

"Sorry," Harry said, but far from it, he sounded content beyond messure with the way he was sighing happily. That torturous leg slid through the gap again until Harry was pressed flush against the awkward bulge in Daddy's flannel pajamas. In contented half-mumble Harry proclaimed, "Goodnight, Daddy." 

Norman hugged him and responded in kind, "Goodnight, Harry."

"I love you."

When Norman tried to repeat the three little words back, the phrase got stuck in his throat. "Me too," he said instead. Harry giggled. 

"What is it now?" Norman grumbled.

 _"Nothing, nothing."_ A beat, " 's just funny." 

"What's funny?"

"You love yourself."

"All the time," Norman muttered absentmindedly. They shared a precious few silent minutes cuddled together like that before Harry's self restraint failed him and the darn kid starting moving again.  

Norman had to bite back a hiss as Harry's hips started to roll back and forth, grinding the boy's pelvis dangerously close to Daddy's dick. If it were anyone else in his bed aside from his own son, Norman would've thought this was an invitation to flip them onto their back and fuck them senseless. Apparently, the voices in his head didn't get the memo about how inappropriate that would be in this very specific context. 

{ _"It's been so long since you last took a lover, Normie._ "} 

{"Just when _was_ the last time you  _loved yourself_ all good and proper, _hm?_ "} 

Norman reached down to try to still Harold's hips but that only provoked every other part of the boy to strain for more contact. He was rewarded with the sudden realization that under the fuzzy Batman pajamas, his little boy was getting as hot and hard as he was.  

{"Aw, _like father, like son._ How cute, Normie,"}

Harry was almost 10 years old. He'd gotten the talk by now, hadn't he? Norman couldn't actually remember offhand, but he certainly wasn't about to bring the subject up  _now._

"Daddy's going to need a little more space to breath, Harry."  

Harry's arms squeezed around Daddy tighter in protest. _"Nnn,"_ Harry groaned.

"Maybe you'd be more comfortable having the bed all to yourself," the prospect didn't much appeal to Norman, of having to crawl under the icy cold sheets of the other bed, but then again... As unpleasant as the chill would be, it would provide a quick fix for his problem. 

 _"Nuh-uh,"_ Harry said, "Too cold, and I was promised cuddles." 

"Okay, but this position is a little stifling. Why don't you roll off and lay next to me." 

"Will you be the big spoon?" 

Reluctantly, Norman agreed, "Only if you'll be the little spoon." 

"Okay!" 

As Norman's arms wrapped around Harry from behind, the boy hugged them over his chest. With a happy sigh, Harold scooched back until his twitchy little bum rubbed up against Daddy's lap. 

Biting back a little curse and silently swearing to ignore the discomfort poised by this position, Norman whispered in Harry's ear, "Sweet Dreams, Fluffy."

#### Next Scene

Norman awoke the next morning with the worst case of morning wood in recent memory. He quickly and quietly disentangled himself from the still sleeping Harry and slipped into the bathroom. The luxury cabin had an impressive walk in shower, he switched it on to the steam function and retrieved his smartphone while he waited for it to warm up.  

Nothing urgent. He almost laughed when he noticed a series of emails from his secretary with the subject lines:

  * Put The Phone Down, Norman.
  * Go Build a Snowman.
  * Give Harold a Hug.
  * Enjoy Your Holiday. 
  * Seriously, Stop Checking Your Email. 
  * Read a Book, Watch a Movie. 
  * Get a Hobby. 
  * Don't Forget to Hug Harry.  



Norman set the phone down with a sigh. The distraction had done very little to calm his raging hard-on. Shedding his pajamas, he walked into the steam shower fully intent on finding some relief.   

He used long, firm strokes - thinking only about the physical, carnal pleasures of his own hand. It was too depressing to think of any of his previous lovers. Too disgusting and depraved to entertain any of his more elaborate fantasies with his son in the next room. Then again, Harold had still been sleeping soundly when Norman got up. The door was locked. Certainly then, there was no risk of getting caught or interrupted.  _And this is his vacation too,_ not just Harry's, so why shouldn't Norman get to enjoy himself to the fullest? 

He sunk down to sit on the shower floor, to lean his head back against the wall. Cock still in his hands, Norman summoned images of his favorite kinks. As a teenager, when Normie had first begun experimenting, he'd found himself preferring the company of older men. But with the passing of his beloved professor, it seemed a most inappropriate fantasy for him to be seeking guidance from a new mentor.  

 _No._ This definitely wouldn't do. Norman couldn't imagine himself in the same roles that he'd played a thousand times before. He was the CEO of his company, a power broker in his industry, and a father. It was high time that Norman grow up and begin embracing his role as the older, more experienced man. He'd always fancied himself to be the dominant partner, even when he'd been on bottom. 

In Norman's new fantasy, he had a private meeting in his office with a new employee. Of course, he knew better than to abuse his position of power for something as stupid and pointless as a quick, easy fuck, but this imagined scenario made for a very convenient and believable setup. _'S_ _o shut up, Conscience, and don't get any ideas from this, Goblin.'_

This employee was a fresh faced scientist, perhaps a recent graduate from ESU, eager to prove himself and make a lasting impression. This young lad was willing to do anything that Norman asked of him, and the first thing Norman wanted was for this slut to lock the door and take his clothes off. 

Norman's hand on his cock slowed while he considered what the boy might look like. Dark hair, cheap glasses, clean but well worn hand-me-down clothes, a dreamer with big ambitions to raise himself out of poverty and to change the world. Norman knew that sort of mindset well enough to relate, he may have once been that boy himself.

He may be young, but this fictitious man was someone with the capacity to earn Norman's respect. He works hard for the money, but he's just starting to come around to realizing that all his efforts alone will never be enough. It's a cruel world, and he can't accomplish his goals without support. That's why he's here now. He needs what only Norman can provide. 

#### Next Scene

It was finally here. Christmas Morning. Osborn tried to pretend that the giddiness he felt was just gas or restlessness from being couped up away from work.

He'd gotten up early to pull all the presents out of his locked luggage and arrange them all pretty under the Christmas tree. Sneaking back into bed had been difficult. Not because Harry had woken up or anything like that, it was just that Norman felt too wired to go back to sleep. So he laid awake and watched the hypnotizing rise and fall of Harry's chest for forty minutes before he started to doze off. 

#### Next Scene

Having unwrapped the last box in his small mountain of presents, Harry happily turned to give Daddy a big smile as Norman snapped a quick picture.   

"So, which is your favorite?" Norman asked.   

"This year," Harry said, "the greatest gift of all is getting to spend the whole break with you, Dad." 

"Suck up," Norman accused him, but Daddy's smile betrayed his happiness. 

"It's true," Harry meant it. "Don't get me wrong. _This,"_ he gestured to all the presents, "is all really awesome, _but,"_ he jumped to his feet and skipped around the pile of torn wrapping paper until he got close enough to hop onto the couch next to his father. "But the best part of the holidays will always be the quality time we have together." 

Norman rolled his eyes before indulgently pulling Harry into his lap. "Have I ever told you what an adorable little cornball you are?"

"Yeah, well, _no._  I don't think I've ever heard you use _that_ phrase before, but I'm sure the sentiment is familiar." 

#### Next Scene

"So which game do you wanna play first? You _were_ planning to play with me, right?"  

"Well, I hadn't _planned_ on it."

"But you're going to anyway." 

"Yes, I suppose, I am." 

"Great!" Harold emphasized his enthusiasm with a little fist pump before pushing aside the socks and practical gifts so he could reach for the games. "Let's start with a classic," he grabbed one of the board games, it stated on the box that it was a game of strategy. "You are going to let me win at least _once,_ aren't you?"

"Now where's the fun in that?"

 _"Dad!_ Come on!" 

"Nuh-uh, if you want to win then you're going to have to earn it." 


	20. Bed Wetting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Norman and Harry (age 9 and 3/4). Harry wet the bed. Norman tucks him in and makes a parenting fail in not discovering the true cause of his son's distress, but otherwise he doesn't do so bad. 
> 
> Hurt/Comfort Fluff, essentially.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings** for references to Norman's auditory hallucinations suggesting the physical abuse of a child. (Also, the nightmares Harry has are implied to have been caused by Eddie molesting the boy while he was unconscious and assisted by the use of drugs to keep Harry from fully waking or realizing what was happening.)
> 
> Characters: Norman and Harry.
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

#### Bed Wetting

“Dad,” Harry was standing in the doorway to his father’s home office. Norman glanced up at him, then the clock, and back at Harold.

“What are you still doing up? It’s a school night, you should be sleeping.”

“I can’t. I had a nightmare and I - _I - uhhh,”_ the boy’s face was red hot with embarrassment. He’d wet the bed. He was nine and three quarters old and he'd woken up in puddles of his own piss and drool and tears. And now he was crying all over again. “I made a mess,” he finally admitted.

Norman stared for three long seconds at the anxious little boy while his face remained impassive. Then he looked away to switch the computer into sleep mode and stood up. “Have you attempted to clean the mess yet?”

“I stripped the bed and I took a quick shower,” Harry told him. Norman sighed with relief, glad he at least didn't have to deal with that.

“You can sleep in one of the guest rooms tonight, let the maid come in tomorrow and finish tidying up.” He kept his tone businesslike, determined not to let himself get upset with Harry over what was clearly an accident. Yelling or throttling his son for something that was completely out of Harry's control wouldn't fix anything, and he really shouldn't have to remind himself -  _or the nagging voices -_ of this fact. 

 _“Can’t I_ \- can’t I just stay with you?”

“So you can make a mess in _my_ bed?” He couldn't help letting a bit of disgust into his tone. It was still a far cry from the intense revulsion that Norman's father was expressing from beyond the grave. He had a lot of enthusiastic suggestions about beating the piss out of the kid to ensure it wouldn't happen again. Norman was forcefully attempting to disregard his hallucinations entirely and stay fixated on navigating this crisis _without_ resorting to unnecessary violence. 

 _“No!_ I won’t! I promise!” Harry exclaimed. “If you’re there, _I know_ I won’t be scared.” He was looking up at his father with big, wet pleading eyes. _“Please, Daddy.”_

“I’ll tuck you into the guest bed.” Norman stepped forward to take Harry's hand and lead him out of the office.

 _“And stay with me?"_ Harry eagerly followed along and grabbed Daddy's large hand in both of his much smaller ones, delighting in its warmth. He gazed up at Norman with perhaps a little too much hope. _"Pet my hair,_ at least just until I fall asleep, _please._ I’m really tired. It won’t take too long, I promise."

 "I will tuck you in, but I am not going to wait around for you to fall asleep." 

Harry squeezed Daddy's hand tighter, not wanting to be left alone, but he didn't argue, not yet. He didn't want Norman to change his mind and not tuck him in at all. 

Harry didn't dare speak up again until Norman was nearly done tucking the covers around him. "Daddy, I'm scared." When Norman started to pull away Harry reached out and grabbed him by the wrist to keep him from leaving. _"I'm scared._ Monsters keep trying to take me away. I feel their hands on me whenever I fall asleep. Daddy, _please, don't leave me."_

 _"Harry,"_ Norman sighed and rubbed at his temple, he cast a glare at a dark corner in the room in an attempt to keep from directing his ire at Harry. Truly, it was his frustration with the angry voices that was testing his patience more than his son, but there was no way of making Harry understand that without complicated explanations for the existence of said voices. _That_ was a conversation that neither one of them was ready for, not now of all times. "I don't have time for this." 

Harry's eyes were filling with tears, his face stricken with a rising tide of panic. _"They keep touching me._ Dad, please,  _make them stop."_

Against the advice of The Goblin, Norman took a seat on the bed and reached down to pet his son's hair. The child leaned into the touch and latched on to Norman's other arm for extra security.

"There are no monsters, Harry. It's just a dream. A nightmare. You're old enough to understand that."

"But - _but it feels so real."_

 _"It's not._ Harry, sometimes our minds play cruel tricks on us." Unfortunately, this failed to provide any comfort. Harry was so upset that his whole body trembled and while his forehead felt hot, the little hands clutching at Norman's arm were ice cold.

With one final glance in the direction of his office, Norman resigned himself to forfeiting the rest of this evening's productivity in favor of tending to his distressed child. The voices all collectively booed and hissed at this decision, but he mentally flipped them all the bird and told them to _fuck off._

Tears were soon accompanied by snot as Harold's nose was starting to run. Norman glanced around, searching for a tissue box and a waste bin. "Let go."

 _"No, Daddy, please, don't leave."_ Harry sat up, refusing to relinquish his grasp and serious enough in this that he would risk being dragged along behind his father if the man still attempted to flee. 

 _"Let go,_ Harry. I'll be right back." As gently as he could, Norman freed himself from Harry's grabby little hands and shoved the boy back down when he tried to get up. " _Stay here."_

Harry curled up into a ball and pressed his face into the pillow when Daddy got up and walked away from him. It certainly didn't feel as though Norman was going to fulfill his promise. Afterall, he hadn't specified when _exactly_ he would be back, and Norman often seemed to forget his promises when they involved spending time with Harry. So it was a very happy surprise when Daddy came back several minutes later. He had a fresh box of tissues and was offering him a small glass of water. 

"It's probably a bad idea, considering," Norman never completed the statement, he didn't need to, Harry knew what he meant. But Norman shrugged as if it didn't really matter anyway, bad idea or no.  

"Thanks," Harry said, accepting the tissues first. When he finished cleansing his sinuses, Norman gestured to a bin that Harry hadn't noticed set by the bed. He stopped to consider the glass of water before taking it. "I don't want to make another mess."

"It's not the end of the world if you do." Well, that's all the reassurance he needed, because Harry was thirsty. He took a few greedy sips and then set the cup down on the nightstand. "Are you feeling any better?" Norman asked. Harry gave a tentative nod and a small sniffle. "Good. Now let me in before I change my mind." 

Harry stared at his father in surprise for a second before registering what he meant, and belatedly noticing that Daddy had changed out of his work clothes and into a soft pair of pajamas. Harry happily pulled the blankets up and allowed Norman to slide under the covers next to him. 

"I just happen to be tired," Norman said, as if he needed the excuse.

Harry didn't say anything. He didn't want to ruin the moment, so he just snuggled up alongside his father. The bad feelings from before still had a hold of him, like a dead weight exerting pressure on and twisting his insides. His energy was completely drained from the emotional upheavel. For all this, there was no better comfort than the safety of being nestled in Daddy's arms. 

And for Norman Osborn, there was nothing more important than his son's safety. 

 

 


	21. Eddie Fucks Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
> **Trigger Warnings** for Eddie being a manipulative, misogynistic creep and for Cletus figuring out some of what Eddie has been up to (but rather than trying to put a stop to it, of course, the sociopath just wants in on the fun).
> 
> Characters: Harry, Eddie and introducing Cletus Kasady. 
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

#### The Creeping Continues

"You want to make your dad proud, don't you, Harry?"

Little Harold nodded.

"The only way Norman Osborn will ever learn to accept having a sissy boy for a son is if you find a big, strong man that will be willing to marry you. Someone intelligent enough to take over his business. A Real Alpha Male."

"Someone like you," Harry said. Eddie smiled.

"Yes. You'd like that, wouldn't you? If I agreed to take care of you?"

Harry wasn't so sure of that, but he nodded anyway.

"You don't make it easy, you know." Eddie sounded so put-upon. He was almost as good as Norman at making Harry feel like a burden. "But you'll learn how to make it up to me, won't you? If you want to find and keep a husband, you're going to have to learn how to keep him happy."

"How? How do I do that?" 

#### Solo Assignment

Eddie had given little Harold extra homework to do. "Special research," he'd called it. So he logged onto the website just as Eddie had shown him, using the 'incognito' tab, and he scrolled through all the images and the stories attached.

Eddie had told him to pay very close attention to the stories, what they described was very important, because Harry needed to learn how to behave. How to be a good slut for his future husband.

The images served as a much more loose guide of what might be expected of him. He would need to work on his flexibility to ensure that he could accomplish various poses. He would also need to stay active to ensure that his body was kept in ideal shape. Eddie said that most Alphas preferred it if their sissy slaves had smooth swimmer's bodies. Harry had said that Dad didn't like him to go swimming without any lifeguards on duty. Eddie brushed that off as irrelevant, beside the point.

"What was the point?" He'd asked. Eddie gave that big sigh that meant Harry had just said something very stupid. But Harry's angry little pout put a smile back on Brock's face.

"Point is, when puberty kicks into high gear, you're going to have extra maintenance to perform, because you're going to want to be clean shaven everywhere except for your eyebrows and the top of your head. And aside from that, you need to stay cute and skinny, with a strong, bouncy tushy."

Harry had not appreciated the way that conversation led to his pants being pulled down. But it was just as well, because the memory provoked a stirring in his underwear.

Part two of this assignment, Eddie had instructed Harry to pick one specific story in particular to focus on. He was supposed to click the share button and to describe what he liked about the story - specifically, what his dick seemed to respond to - and he was supposed to send that message to Eddie. And then he was supposed to tug on his penis and finger his asshole until he squirted.

#### Uh-oh

Eddie couldn’t hide his grin when he got the alert of a new message from Harry. He’d been at a party celebrating his team’s recent victory. Stuck listening to some of the other guys brag about their various conquests. Drunk party sluts, mostly, from the sound of it. Women - girls, whores, cunts, _did any of them really deserve to be acknowledged as more than a set of wet holes?_ \- they were a popular conversational topic amongst this crowd. 

He needed to wait until he was alone before he could open the message and see what his little fairy princess was thinking about while she fucked herself. So he hurried along with his nice guy routine and was just about to excuse himself, to get away as soon as possible, when one of the other guys made a sly, offhand comment about wanting to _bone_ their fanboy.

Eddie hesitated with whatever he was about to say or do. He froze. He didn't know why, but he was sure that comment was somehow meant for him. The other guys were razing the one that had spoken, but Eddie Brock and Cletus Kasady made eye contact just then and held it for a very long second.

Kasady found him later. “Admit it,” the other jock said, “you like fucking around with sissy boys.”

“I don’t -”

“Oh, _please,_ it’s not as if I’m judging you for it.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Because I know you have a sweet piece of ass that keeps sending you naughty messages. Don’t play coy, Brock, I saw the look on your face when your phone jingled." Cletus had also managed to steal his phone on previous occasions and have a look at his recent messages. Kasady didn't know who this 'Fairy Princess' was, but he was definitely curious about the nature of all these dirty messages. "I guess I can’t be sure it’s a boy on that information alone, but your reaction speaks volumes. _Besides,_ you don’t usually contribute much to the conversation in terms of sexual escapades. While the other boys look on in envy, you always have this smug, secret smile.”

“So what makes you suspect that there’s a penis attached?”

“Because you’re _such_ a good Christian, of course. The only people that attend church services as _religiously_ as you are the ones trying desperately to save their souls because they are the worst sinners of us all.”

“You’re projecting.”

“Projecting the truth is all. Don't worry, Brock, it’s our little secret. I’m not judging you for this deliciously _sinful_ predilection of yours.”

“So just what are you getting at then?”

“I want a taste. That’s all.”


	22. The Hurt Locker / Aftermath / Expulsion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings** for things getting really, really rapey and horrible.
> 
> Characters: Harry and Eddie. 
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

####  **The Hurt locker**

“Did you wear your plug today, Harry,? Like Daddy told you to?”

“Y-yes, Eddie,” Harry had tears in his eyes, feeling humiliated at having to answer this question in front of Eddie’s friends.

“Be a good sissy boy, Harry, and call me Daddy.”

“Yes. Yes, Daddy, I did what you told me. C-can I go now?”

“No, you need to show me that you’ve been a good boy. Drop your pants. I need to see it.” Eddie’s hand was reaching for Harry’s pants.

“Now? But - _no,_ with them here? I - I can’t.”  Harry tried to pull away. _“You said this was our secret, that we couldn't ever tell anyone else,”_ Harry was crying, he tried to keep his voice low, and it came out as a very loud, panicked whisper.

 _“Shhhh, baby,_ don’t cry. It’s okay, Daddy’s here.” He pulled Harry into a hug and rubbed his back. “Daddy knows what’s best for his baby boy and Daddy’s here to protect you.” Harry hugged Eddie back, burying his face in the taller boy’s chest and trying very hard to believe him.

But he didn’t feel safe. This was wrong. It wasn’t just uncomfortable or unpleasant, _it was wrong._ It even went against Eddie’s own rules. And Harry _always_  got hurt when he broke The Rules. He thought sometimes Eddie even arranged things so that the rules would be impossible to follow just so that he’d have an excuse to punish Harry.

#### Aftermath,

Harry spent at least half an hour brushing every corner of his mouth in disgust. Scrubbed his whole self raw, a vibrant flaming red in angry blotches covered him almost completely from knees to chin.

Still, he couldn't get the taste of piss and cum out of his mouth, his skin felt unclean, and he wondered if the disgust would ever fade. His cock twitched and grew in response to each shameful memory. His stomach fell and then heaved up so quickly he lurched towards the sink and missed.

When he finally managed to pick himself up from where he'd fallen on the floor, he took pains to clean up the mess of vomit that had spilled across the counter, the wall, and took off his soiled shirt. He had no energy left to make his way back to bed, so he just stood there, staring at the face in the mirror as if it was a total stranger until he finally decided,

"No more. I won't have it. I can't take it. If Dad won't pull me out of here, then I'll fight my way out."

He swished a mouthful of Listerine, glad for the way it seemed to burn his gums, spat and rinsed the sink before splashing his face with cold water and drying his eyes. "Never again. I promise. I-" his voice faltered, so he grit his teeth and steeled his composure until he felt ready.

"I promise. I'll never let this happen again. If I have to fight tooth and nail to stop it, I'll be a bleeding corpse on the locker room floor before _ever_ letting this happen again."

#### Expulsion,

The very next day, he ignored his sore ribs, split lip, the bruises on his hips, and the ache in his ass. If he didn't think about the pain, maybe his whole body would just go numb. It didn't work like he hoped, but he soldiered on anyway. He walked straight up to Eddie Brock and swung his fist. He caught the larger boy under his jaw, the uppercut knocking Eddie off balance and disorienting him long enough for Harry to aim a kick at the back of the larger boy's knees. Eddie Brock fell down hard. 

Harry pressed his advantage before Eddie could recover from the shock, kicking dirt in the fallen boy's face in the hopes of blinding him from seeing the next attack. _"Be a good bitch, Eddie,_ and stay down!" Harry spit, kicking at Eddie's ribs while the other boy tried to clear his vision. This would be over quickly, a crowd of witnesses had already gathered and someone was shouting for a teacher, but no one was moving to intervene yet. Harry must've looked like an absolute terror to have kept even Eddie's friends and teammates at bay.  

Eddie's eyes were filled with tears from the pain or dust, Harry didn't care, but Brock still managed to snag Harry's ankle while he was reeling it back for another kick. Harry leaned forward, using the momentum from the fall to aim his knee at Brock's abdomen; which managed to buy him another moment to scramble a weak punch at the boy's kidney while Brock was gasping in pain. Eddie fought back in earnest after that, grabbing Osborn by the hair and _pulling_ til Harry screamed, though it sounded more furious than wounded.

Once the element of surprise had worn off, Harry had lost his advantage against the older boy. By the time the teacher arrived, Eddie had managed to roll them both over and forced Harry into a headlock. They were both promptly dragged off to the principal's office and expelled. Word got around about the incident and no other private school would accept Harry Osborn's application.


	23. The Nurse's Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where to put this in the timeline (I'm leaning towards Harry being age 10), but I find this very amusing, okay? Okay!
> 
> Scene includes Harry talking to a school nurse, who expresses concern over the frequency of his illness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
> **Trigger Warnings** for some harsh language and negative opinions regarding psychology and mental health care. 
> 
> Characters: Harry and a school nurse.
> 
> Last Updated: 6/3/17

####  Nurse's Office

“Another tummy ache, Harry?”

The boy nodded and sat on the little bed.

“Harry, is everything alright at home?”

“It’s just - _probably too much candy_ or food poisoning or maybe the flu again, I don’t know.”

“I think it’s more likely caused by stress. You’ve become what we call a 'frequent flier.’ You’re getting sick so often that I’m starting to worry that this is a chronic condition or possibly psychosomatic.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

“It - well, it means that there might be a psychological cause for your physical ailments. That the psychic distress is so great that it affects your body as a cry for help.”

“Oh.”

“I’d like to send a note home for your father and suggest you do some follow up with your primary care doctor. Perhaps you should see a specialist, set up an appt with a child psychiatrist and get a proper assessment done. Harry, sweetie, you should not have to suffer like this. And your father can certainly afford to get you some help.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Dad says psychology is a soft science. Head shrinks are all talking out their asses and obsessing over sexual fetishes." Harry's face was quite suddenly flushed a vivid red. "Oh, I - _s_ -sorry," he stuttered, "Um, excuse my language. I - I shouldn't have said that.”

The nurse's face had a pinched expression, not at all amused, but she was still rather quick to forgive him. However, she was more than a little disgusted by the thought of how  _sexual fetishes_ might've come up in a conversation about mental health care while an impressionable ten year old was listening.

"It's alright, Harry. But what your father told you is a gross oversimplification. And a psychiatrist is actually a medical doctor, they don’t just have a degree in psychology.”


	24. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's my notes so far for this critical part of the story.
> 
> Stromm and Norman discuss the latest experimental trials for their Super Soldier Serum. 
> 
> Harry is kidnapped by his nanny. 
> 
> Norman and Stromm are given the ransom demands. If they want Harry back, alive, then they need to produce successful human trials with the serum. (Hydra provides half a dozen thugs and mercenaries as test subjects, but the kicker is - Norman also needs to participate, to ensure that their efforts are sincere. But I haven't finished sketching out how to tell that part of the story)
> 
> Skip Ahead to a preview of Stromm's funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings** for kidnapping and threats of dismemberment. 
> 
> Characters: Norman, Mendel Stromm, Alexander Pierce, Harry, Alice Carlyle (OC) and unnamed "bodyguards."
> 
> Last Updated: 7/23/17

#### Experimental Serum

"There were significant improvements in their health, their reflexes, _their intelligence_." 

"But there was also a corresponding increase in their levels of violence and aggression. Almost all of them attempted to escape from their enclosures, several subjects grew so frantic or enraged that they tore apart everything they could get their claws and teeth into. One of them even began chewing through his own tail and legs."

 _"That_ was _an outlier._  One bad fluke accident, he was probably already mentally damaged to begin with. And besides, he still _survived_. They all did. Most of the injuries healed over before we even had time to discover them." 

"The serum drove them _mad_. Norman, we need to stop and consider all the risks before trying to move on to human trials. The serum just isn't ready yet. Clearly, it has potential, but we're far from perfecting it." 

"S.H.I.E.L.D. has threatened to cut funding if we can't produce results." 

"Just gimme two more weeks. We'll take this back to formula, make a few more adjustments and start a new animal trial." 

"In two weeks, we'll have lost the contract." 

A message came in from their secretary, speaking through the intercom, "Mr. Osborn, Alexander Pierce is here to see you."

Norman clicked the call button to respond, "I'll be in my office to greet him momentarily." He removed his lab coat to replace it with his suit jacket as he headed for the door. Stromm followed behind him.

"Norman, I'm begging you, consider the consequences. If we knowingly move forward with an unstable performance enhancer then the company will never recover from the inevitable scandal. Give me more time. Perhaps we should step back completely. We've been so focused on this that we've gotten tunnel vision. We can find other sources of funding for the labs. The company's success does not hinge on this one project."

#### Next Scene

"Mr. Pierce."

"Norman," the older man reached forward to shake his hand. 

"The serum isn't ready." Norman didn't want to waste time with preamble. They were both busy men. In this situation, it seemed best to get straight to the point. "We've had limited success with our animal trials. There has been notable progress reaching all of our primary goals, but there have also been unforseen setbacks. More data is necessary before we can calculate the risks of moving forward with human trials."

"Just how much of a setback are we talking about?"

"My top scientist suggests we take it back to formula. I feel inclined to agree with him. If we were to proceed now... I can't guarantee the safety  _or sanity_ of the test subjects and the effects could be irreversible. It's not worth the risk." 

"Surely there are ways to manage those risks," Pierce argued. "If our primary goals are being met, I don't see how the safety of our subjects could be at risk. Unless you or your scientist have misunderstood the core objectives..."

"Stromm and I know full well the scope of this project. Our concerns revolve around the possibility that the serumcould permanently alter the chemistry of the subject's brain and we wont be able to predict the effect that might have on their behavior or their state of mind."

"So this is less about the subjects themselves coming into physical harm and more concern for the harm they might cause? You _do_ understand that the purpose of this formula is to enhance soldiers, yes?"

"Of course, but what use would you have for teams of mentally unstable super soldiers? They would be a greater liability than an advantage in today's combat. Maybe if we were still in the dark ages, fighting in the style of an open battlefield but - even day you did have a use for them. What life could they possibly hope to have outside of their uniform? You do _care_ that their personal lives might be completely destroyed." 

"Subjects will sign a waiver, they'll be fully briefed on these potential side effects. we'll add clauses that will take liability away from OsCorp. The tests can be run in a secure S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, and my team will accept full responsibility for managing the fallout."

"How would you even convince any candidates to partake? And what happens if someone _dies_ as a result of these experiments?"

"We'll handle it."

"You'll _what?_ Burn all the evidence? Bury any _negative results_?"

"It'll be taken care of. I can assure you. Norman, I have faith in your ability. You and Stromm are both brilliant, but right now you're being overly cautious, and I suspect Stromm has more to do with this than you. That man is terrified of success. Of what this could mean for the world. Not like you. I know you understand what's truly at stake here, Norman."

Norman's expression was unreadable. _Was he really considering this?_ "No." 

"No?" Pierce could hardly believe what he was hearing. Before the old man died, Alton had _made assurances._ He weighed the potential for catastrophic damage if he revealed his true allegiances to Norman Osborn. Would the CEO fall in line as his grandfather promised he would? 

_"No."_

"If it's still too much of a risk from your point of view, we can negotiate a buyout. S.H.I.E.L.D. will take possession of all the preliminary research and our scientists will take over from here. You and your meek partner can wash your hands of this whole affair."

"So S.H.I.E.L.D. can begin administering human trials? _I told you,_ the formula is incomplete. The consequences of testing on human subjects at this stage could be disastrous." 

#### A Moment of Introspection

 _What_ _was at stake?_ Pierce had been alluding to the prophecies that Norman's grandfather used to talk about. The resurrection and reformation of HYDRA, the rapid evolution of mankind leading to a  _revolution,_ a battle between gods and monsters, the fate of the entire universe hanging in the balance. A descendant of the fae, the most adaptive species in all the realms, was _destined_ to give birth to Earth's savior, a vicious creature with pregonitive ability.

 _Nonsense,_ all of it. _Complete and utter nonsense._  Did Pierce believe the stories were true or did he mistake Norman for being as gullible as his ancestors?

#### Next Scene

School was out for the day, Harry gathered his things and headed towards the front doors to wait for Ms. Carlyle, his new nanny, to pick him up. She told him to call her Alice. He thought her smile was fake and her voice too sacharine, sickly sweet. He'd taken to calling her Miss Carla just to see if he could get a rise out of her. 

He liked Maria much better, but her mother had quite suddenly passed away and so she was taking several weeks leave to make sure her family's affairs were in order. Idly, Harry wondered if there was anything he could do to help. He had been there when she'd gotten the call and had to rush to the hospital. It had all been very upsetting. The best he could think to do at the time was to hold her hand. Harry promised himself that he would be on his best behavior when Maria came back. In the meantime, he would make sure that Ms. Carlyle wouldn't steal her job. 

Carlyle slowly eased her way through traffic to the front of the school between all the other parents, butlers and nannies. When he finally did spot her, she used her big plastic smile and her manicured fingertips to beckon him over to the car. Grumpily, he pushed away from the pillar he'd been leaning against and walked over with a huff.  _He really didn't like her._

"How was school today, Mr. Osborn?" 

 _"Fine,"_ Harry dropped his schoolbag between his legs as he sat down and closed the car door. He faced away from her and felt a chill settle in the air, which might've just been caused by the AC but Harry would've preferred to think it was symbolic.

"Seatbelt," she instructed still in keeping with her fake friendly but politely stern tone of voice. Nails on a chalkboard would've sounded less irritating to Harold, but he obeyed regardless. 

The buckle clicked into place, and they pulled away from the curb. Harry stared out the window, content to ignore Alice Carlyle as much as he could, and resumed thinking about how to fix things with Maria. I mean, obviously, he couldn't really _fix_ things. If he was capable of resurrecting dead mothers, then he would've used that talent before now. 

Harry's thoughts unintentionally drifted towards Emily, the pretty brunette that he only remembered through photographs and stories. Dad didn't like to talk about her, but sometimes he could convince the Professor to tell him stories. 

It sucked not having a mom, but having the Professor around was kind of like having another dad. That was sort of the same thing, right? Maria had mentioned that the Professor was officially anointed as Harry's Godfather. So in a way, it was _exactly_ like having two dads. 

 _"And your daddies both love you very much,"_ he remembered Maria reassuring him.  _"They both work very hard to be good providers."_ He must've been upset about business meetings or travel or something, he didn't remember what had prompted the conversation, but her words had stayed with him regardless of their original context.  _"And they will always be here for you, even when they can't be **here**. Your fathers, they are good men, very smart and capable men, but even they are fallible. They can sometimes make mistakes." _  

Harry smiled, vaguely recalling that he'd rather stubbornly and stupidly objected at that point.  _"Norman Osborn doesn't make mistakes."_ Maria had eventually shut him down with a very unamused stare and a shake of her head. 

_"Even The Great Norman Osborn can sometimes have a bad day, Harry. And even He cannot be great in all things."_

_"Pfbt. What things?"_ Harry had stubbornly remained unconvinced. After that point, his memory was a little fuzzy.  _Something, something,_ oh!  

_"He's... a little stunted. Emotionally. Don't quote me on that, and certainly don't tell him I mentioned it, okay?"_

_"Why? Would it get you into trouble?"_

She'd grimaced, clearly already regretting that she'd mentioned this to him at all.  _"It might. That sort of thing can be difficult to hear, even when it does come from a place of compassion and understanding. I think that Norman tries very hard to be a good father, but he has a lot to overcome. It is a struggle. Being a parent does not come as easily to him as his other talents."_  

Harry considered this quietly, with a very somber expression. _"I think I know what you're trying to say."_ With a decisive nod, he had turned back to meet Maria's gaze,  _"Dad's not always very good at - at expressing himself. The Professor has mentioned this before. But Daddy loves me with all his heart, even if he has trouble saying it."_

#### Next Scene

Harry had been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't been paying very much attention to where they were headed. He had just assumed that they'd be heading home, like usual. 

"What's going on?" Harry turned to glare at Carlyle, "Why aren't we home yet? Where are we going?"

"There's been a slight change of plans, Harry, nothing to get too upset about. We're going to be meeting up with your father very soon."  
  
"Okay, but where? None of this looks familiar. Are we meeting him at the office? A conference? Where are we going?"  
  
"Just sit tight, Harry. Think of this as a fun little road trip." She was watching him from the corner of her eye. Harry was fidgeting. Something just didn't feel right. She reached over to grab his hand and give him a small squeeze that was probably intended to be reassuring. "Don't worry so much, sweetie. Your father is going to meet us at the hotel, where you'll be staying for a few days."  
  
"Is he there now? At the hotel?"  
  
"No, not yet. And he probably wont be there when we arrive, not right away, but he'll join us as soon as he can. I promise. Everything is going to be okay."

#### Next Scene

The hotel was much cheaper than anywhere Harry had ever stayed before. And there were two unfriendly men there. "Body guards," she said. "they're here to protect you. Okay? I didn't want you to freak out in the car, but there's been some security concerns recently. You need to stay put so we can keep you safe. Do you understand?"  
  
"I'm scared. I want to talk to Daddy. Can I call him? When is he going to get here? Is he okay? Is he safe? _Where's my Daddy?"_  
  
_"Shhhh,_ I told you, he'll be here as soon as he can. You'll get to talk to him soon, but not yet. In the meantime, do your homework, play with your toys and stay here where your body guards can see you."  
  
Harry didn't like this. He didn't feel safe with these people. They looked mean and they smelled funny.  
  
When someone finally passed him a phone, an hour later, Daddy sounded angry. He had been loudly demanding that Nanny allow him to speak to his son.  
  
"Daddy!" Harry had excitedly cried, "Where are you? They wouldn't let me call you. Are you going to be here soon? I'm scared, what's going on?" But his rambling questions were cut off when Nanny roughly grabbed the phone back. "Hey!" He shouted and leapt to his feet. But before he could do much of anything else, one of the large dirty men grabbed him and pulled him away.  
  
Nanny was saying things that didn't make any sense. "You'll see him again when the demands are met. You can't outsmart us, Osborn. We've been nice so far, but if you try any more tricks, you'll be getting the boy back in pieces."

#### This Next Part Skips Ahead Quite A Bit

"Hey," Ninja Santa Claus wheezed as he slid down the wall opposite from Harry. He left a red streak on the tile, but he didn't seem overly concerned about that or the blood leaking from various holes in his costume.

"Hey," Harry responded reflexively. He couldn't fathom how that single word spoken between them could sound so casual and natural when the entire situation was straight up insane.

Harry thought Ninja Santa was smiling, but it might just as easily have been a grimace, it was difficult to tell through the mask.

"You must be Larry," he said after taking a moment to catch his breath. He seemed to be breathing a lot easier now, in spite of the obvious injuries he must've sustained.

"Harry," lil Osborn corrected him. "My name is Harry."

"No, I knew that. I was just testing to see if you remembered."

Harry didn't believe him. "Of course I remember my own name. Do you remember yours?"

Santa shrugged, " _'S_ not always as easy as you might think, kid. Wooh, boy," he gripped his ribs and half laughed, half groaned. "Your daddy really did a number on me."

That got Harry's attention. Little guy was pulling on his restraints excitedly.

"Daddy? Is he here?" Harry asked frantically and a bit too loudly.

 _"Shush, shush, shush,"_ the strange stranger indicated for him to keep his voice down.

#### Another Time Jump

Alexander Pierce was in attendance at Dr. Mendel Stromm's funeral. 

"Norman, I'm so sorry for your loss." 

{ _"Sorry? **Sorry?!**  _But is he really? _Normie, who else knew?_ Who else could've been responsible?"}

There were whispers all around him, 

{ _"He's Hydra_."}

{ _"Hail Hydra_."}

{ _"He **is** _ Hydra _. Cut off his head, Normie_."}

{ _"Two more will take his place_."}

{ _"Cut them, too._ Kill them all _. Heads will roll until they - are - all - dead. Do it, Normie_. _Start the circle of death._ "}

"OsCorp will be discontinuing all research into the Oz formula. Super Soldiers are a thing of the past." 

"You would give up on Stromm's legacy _now?_ Norman - _it was his life's work."_  

"Then it should die along with him. The risks far outweigh the potential gains. He saw that, he would understand. In fact, I think he would've preferred a change in the direction of our company. OsCorp will be taking a break from pursuing any biological enhancements. The future is in advancing technology. Now, if there are any other projects you would like to discuss, you can contact my secretary. In the meantime, I'd like some space to grieve. Goodbye, Mr. Pierce." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback is encouraged!


	25. Emily post-pregnancy. Plus, post-death preview, Norman and Mendel argue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Status: Unfinished Draft
> 
> Had another idea for a scene that gives insight into Emily & Norman/Mendel. With just a touch of Past Norman/Tony for giggles.
> 
> Also, a quick draft of Norman and Mendel's first big argument over the creation of their Super Soldier Serum. 
> 
> Please, please comment with any questions or encouragement! I would really appreciate any feedback and also more friends. Really, even a little kudos can make my day.

Emily was about to enjoy her first night out since giving birth. She had plans to get drinks and see a show with some high society wives. And of course she chose to share those plans with her husband at the very last minute in a long winded ramble that was specially designed to bore and annoy him. Which ended with a quick, flippant, "Don't wait up."

"I wasn't going to." Norman hadn't turned his head away from his tablet through the whole spiel, and this was the most he'd even bothered to acknowledge her all night.

"Oh, _I see how it is,"_ she laughed as she pulled on some ridiculously high heeled boots and reached for her jacket. "Now that I'm no longer carrying your precious heir, I might as well go out and blow every man in town for all you care."

Norman gave a disgusted huff, "Not if you ever plan to kiss Harry with that mouth, you won't." Although, in a quieter, somehow less serious note he muttered something about how she wouldn't dare jeopardize her reputation for something as silly as that.

"But I _could_ be _quite_ the naughty minx and _you_ would still have to be caught kissing me once in a while." As an afterthought she added, "to keep up appearances, of course."

Norman's disgruntled sigh was sufficient to communicate without words how exactly he felt about that.

 _"But not to worry._ I'm sure nothing that interesting will pop up. _Although,_ if I do happen to see _Tony Stark_ around, I will send him your love." Emily blew him a kiss and disappeared out the door before Norman had a chance to do more than hiss in response to that statement.

"What was that about Tony Stark?" Mendel asked from the other room.

 _'Shit.'_ Norman had actually forgotten the Professor was still here, he'd been so quiet. Harold had gotten into a bit of a fit earlier and Stromm had insisted that he be allowed to rock the babe to sleep while Norman finished reviewing [documents pertinent for their establishing OsCorp].

 _"Nothing,"_ but the way Norman said the word only made him sound more guilty. He needed to divert this conversation, quickly, "How's Harry?"

Mendel answered with a serene but tired smile, "Sleeping like a baby."

Then Mendel slowly meandered his way around the room until he was able to drop into the chair sitting adjacent from Norman. _"Ugh,"_ he groaned, and Osborn thought the old man was exaggerating when he complained about aches in his joints. "Who knew you could get so sore from holding an infant? Am I that out of shape or just old? How does something so tiny manage to get so heavy?"

"You're not old." 

"But I am out of shape." 

"Hm," Norman was determined not to say one way or the other on that point, but Mendel fixed him with a stare and Norman found himself giving in under the pressure. "You've always been, ahem," he stopped to clear his throat and rethink whatever horribly stupid thing he was about to say.

Mendel raised his eyebrows and snorted. "Go on," he encouraged, "let me hear it." 

"You've always been gaunt. Thin and pale.  _Don't look at me like that._ You know you would benefit if you put a little meat on your bones and built up some muscle tone." 

"Yes, but at my age -"

 _"You're not that old!"_ Norman snapped back, and he finally leaned forward to set work aside. Norman's attention turned fully on appealing to his lover. "And you know it's never too late to start. Wouldn't you like to stick around as long as you can? For me? For Harry?" 

"That's not fair," Mendel complained, "you know I'd do anything for you." 

 

...

After Emily's death, a brief draft of Norman and Mendel Stromm discussing/arguing whether or not they should pursue the development of a super soldier serum (the formula of which is derived in part from notes they obtained through some illicit Hydra connections). 

 _"No,_ Norman. It's a pipe dream. It's ridiculous. We can't afford to sink so many resources into a project like this."

"This serum could hold the key to immortality."

"And don't get me started on how crazy that sounds!"

"Think about all the _possibilities_. Stromm, this formula -"

"This formula created the  _Red Skull._ Norman, have you _never_ touched a history book in your life?"

"We could increase humanity's life expectancy and break into a new era. Think of all the lives we could save. This wouldn't - couldn't just be restrained to use on soldiers. Any first responder would benefit, every victim of any injury could be given a better prognosis. Think of the disasters that could be averted entirely if only the best and the brightest were given this extra edge. The applications are almost too broad to even contemplate."

"And isn't that precisely the problem? Reality has no _easy button._ No fix-all. Think of the consequences! The ramifications of such a thing, even in  _the best case scenario,"_ Stromm shook his head, unable to finish the thought aloud. His tongue was tied, his mind overwhelmed by the challenge of reeling in Norman's wild ambitions. He hated it, hated himself, whenever he had to do this. But Norman, Norman was always like this when he got an idea stuck in his head. _He had to at least try to reason with him._

 _"That power_ would inevitably fall into the hands of those who would abuse it.  _Think about it._ Can you even begin to imagine the horrors that could bring? The destruction they would be capable of? You of all people should know how fragile the human mind can be, how good intentions can be twisted."

The expression of wild excitement fell away from Norman's face in an instant. Simply gone. Vanished as if it was never even there and replaced with a blank slate and rigid posture. 

Mendel felt his own body tense up in response. He recognized that look. 

"No - no," he stuttered and stumbled backwards in apology. "Norman, you know I didn't mean to -" 

"You've made your point." Any warmth or excitement had already fled the room, leaving behind only a heavy sense of dread to accompany the chill of Norman's wrath. 

"No, I haven't," Mendel endeavoured to explain himself. "That wasn't a personal attack."

"No?" Norman choked on telling Stromm that it  _sounded_ awfully personal. "What was it then?"

"A mistake. I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it." Mendel lied and he silently cursed himself for his apparent lack of a spine. He'd meant exactly what he said. If Norman wasn't able to recognize the flaws in his oen perspextive than surely that further evidence to support Mendel's position, but he couldn't possibly use this to win an argument. His lover's affection was usually worth more to him than being right, but the stakes were much higher here than any of their usual arguments.

"You think I'm some kind of monster."

"I think..." _it's more complicated than that._ "You've been faced with some difficult decisions in your life and you haven't always -" _done what's right or moral or just._ "Look, I think we can both admit that nobody's perfect."

"And some are less perfect than others." 

"It doesn't even matter what I say, at this point you're going to take it the wrong way." 


	26. Pitter Patter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because "The Bitch is Dead" chapter was so depressing, I am immediately following up by posting this fluffy one. 
> 
> Characters: Norman, Mendel, Harry and a Fox Stuffie named Virgil (coincidentally, Virgil is also Norman's middle name).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Author's Note to Self: in this chapter I was experimenting with my Writing Style, using mostly the present tense versus my usual past tense for describing the action. Deliberately intending to evoke a specific, childlike feel. Is it successful? I don't know.

#### In the middle of the night

The pitter-patter of little feet echoes off the walls, a little fox stuffie clutched tight in two little hands. The little boy makes his way down the hall and stops in front of his father's door. He leans to the side and presses his ear up to the wood, listening carefully. Daddy doesn't like it when he interrupts Advanced Adult Cuddling Hour.

There's no words, no laughter, no creaking furniture or heavy breathing. _'They must be sleeping,'_ he thinks. As quietly as he can, he turns the knob and pushes the door open. There are two lumps underneath the covers. Harry's brow furrows in frustration when he realizes the lumps are too close together for him to sneakily make his way in between them. With a very thoughtful frown, Harry considers the advantage of taking the far left side. Professor Stromm is sleeping on his side, with his back to Daddy. There's plenty of room for Harry over there. While on the other side, Daddy is stretched out and Harry would probably have to climb on top of him to get comfy.

Harry releases a little huff. _'Choices, choices,'_ he thinks, but there's really no contest. Given any two choices, Harry always wants the one that brings him closer to Daddy.

Harry is as stealthy as a cartoon ninja as he pulls himself up and into the bed. Norman stirs but doesn't appear to wake just yet. Now Harry just needs to get settled under the covers and - _'oh no!'_ He dropped Virgil! From the doorway there was enough light leaking into the room to see big shapes, but it's too dark for him to locate his fox toy by sight. Harry needs his stuffie! Using his hands he tries to feel around for Foxy Virgil.

Harry hears a heavy sigh and his frantic search comes to a dead hault. Uh-oh. He forgot this was a stealth mission.

"Hm," Daddy says, _"What time's it?"_ Norman's arm moves and Harry hears the soft sound of his stuffie being knocked to the floor. "Harry?" Daddy's hand finds Harry's knee and stays there. Norman is mindful of his sleeping lover and tries to keep his voice low as he says, "Bunny, what are you doing out of bed?"

Harry's leg bounces, his whole body wiggles and then he's falling down. Norman makes a little _"oof"_ sound as Harry lands half on top of him and half next to him, eagerly trying to contort his body to fit around Daddy's. Apparently he's entirely given up on being sneaky now that he's already been caught.

"I'm not out of bed," Harry defends himself a little too loudly. On the other side of the bed, Mendel is yawning.

Norman rolls his eyes and rephrases the question, "Why aren't you in _your_ bed?"

"I couldn't sleep," Harry says "It was too cold and I was lonely."

Norman opens his mouth to form some objection to that, but he finds himself too tried to produce words. Was a little sleep really too much to ask? It had been a very long week. 

"Don't argue with him, Norman," a voice advises him. Norman's body stiffens, not enough for Harry to notice, but Mendel was able to feel it through where his back is in casual contact with Norman's right shoulder. Without turning around, Mendel Stromm reaches behind himself to give Norman a reassuring pat. The tension is still held there for a moment before Norman's muscles gradually begin to relax. 

Norman blames the medication for making him slow to recognize Mendel's voice. It's been weeks since his last episode. _He's just so tired._

 _"Let him stay,"_ Mendel tells him. 

Harry is excitedly nuzzling and hugging and the touch may not be entirely unwelcome _but_ it is _too much_ for this early in the morning. 

"Okay, okay," Norman agrees and Harry is immediately giggling with joy. "But _only_ if you can settle down and _be quiet, please._ Daddy needs his sleep." 

"That's right. Be good, little bunny. Your daddy needs his beauty rest," Mendel comments with a smile. Norman wishes he had the energy to give his lover a good kick under the covers. 

"I'll be good," Harry mumbles, "I promise."

 _"Shhh,_ no more talking."

{ _"Quiet, quiet,_ "}  echo the walls.

{ _"It's time for you to sleep now,_ "} the curtains agree. 

{ _"Close your eyes, Normie._ "} He takes one long, shuddering breath. Hopefully by morning it will be easy to forget that he heard anything. _'Easier to lie that way,'_ Norman thinks to himself. _'It's been two weeks. Two weeks without an episode.'_ And he'll keep telling himself that until he forgets that it isn't true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So I just decided on a new vision for his I'm going to break the Series as a whole into more manageable pieces, and that means that very soon I am going to move a bunch of stuff around. And divide this part into two separate stories. Eventually. Still working on my plan.


End file.
